


An Emperor's Greed

by sasin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Also a bunch of random Xingese OCs, Also ed and alfonse are mentioned but tba if they make any actual appearances, And before you ask yes I literally have a notebook with all 50 clans in order of size on me, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Politics, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, me: what's a title.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 00:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasin/pseuds/sasin
Summary: Two years after his ascension to power, Emperor Ling Yao finds himself locked in a headache of politics. While he fights for clan equality and the abolishment of the system of succession from the emperor before him, not all clans support him--namely, the most powerful ones comfortable in their privilege and influence. Ling stands on the edge of a knife, balancing between begrudging negotiations and all-out civil war. In the middle of it all, his old friend Greed reappears suddenly from the dead, making himself at home at Ling's palace, but remaining ambiguous in his reasons for staying at all. In an entire country full of allies and enemies that Ling cannot identify, will he be able to choose well who to trust?AUG 2018: INDEFINITE HIATUS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first stab at an FMA:B work. I've only really watched the anime, but as I understand the essential canon is very similar to the manga. This features my only relevant ship in the fandom, Greed/Ling. 
> 
> Can't really promise consistent updates because I'm a student at the moment, but I hope you enjoy regardless.

                “Is that all of them?” Emperor Ling Yao asked, not without some weariness in his tone, when the last clan leader exited the throne room. He looked down and to his left, where Lan Fan dutifully stood at the bottom of his throne, mask and dark garb on as usual.

                “Yes,” said Lan Fan, “but there were some letters sent by hawk this morning by the Xing, Zhou, and Xia clans requesting your urgent attention.”

                _Naturally_ , Ling thought to himself with mild irritation. The Xing, Zhou, and Xia clans were the first, third, and fourth most powerful clans in Xing, and enjoyed flexing their influence when they could. Ling’s recent ascent to power was less than welcomed by these clans and others. He was treated politely enough, but only just; it was clear he would need to do a lot of convincing if he wanted to sway some clans to his side.

                “Then I’ll read them in my chambers,” said Ling. He stood, and Lan Fan bowed.

                “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. “I’ll have them sent for you.”

                “Thank you,” Ling said. He descended the short flight of steps down from his throne and walked behind it, where the doors to his private rooms were.

                “Not at all, Your Majesty.” Lan Fan hurried to his side and kept her eyes respectfully downcast, but kept an insistent distance close to him as they walked down the hall.

                “I don’t need you to tell me where my room is, Lan Fan,” Ling said, tone mildly teasing.

                “As your personal bodyguard, it would be shameful for me to leave your side for any moment, Your Majesty,” Lan Fan bowed as he addressed her.

                “You don’t need to call me ‘Your Majesty’ when no one else is around, Lan Fan,” Ling reminded her gently, although he knew she wouldn’t listen unless he specifically ordered her to. Lan Fan was always committed to duty. And, as expected, Lan Fan politely replied, “If His Majesty wishes strongly I refer him to his given name, I will do so. But, as His Majesty’s personal guard, I feel it most appropriate to refer to him as his title demands.”

                Ling smiled a little and said no more on the matter. It was disappointing, certainly, from before he was emperor, but it wasn’t something that he wasn’t used to. When he was Prince, Lan Fan treated him with respect, as well. Now that he was emperor, she treated him with even greater reverence. It was simply something he would have to become used to—like many of the other things required of him as emperor of Xing.

                Of course, there were many things that he did not need to get used to. For instance, he certainly wasn’t going to take fifty wives like the previous emperor did. It was a system of fealty, which was useful, but also encouraged assassination and strife between the clans. Ling vividly remembered every single assassination attempt since he was old enough to remember. According to Fu, however, Ling had been targeted since he was a baby—and that wasn’t unusual. Ling wasn’t eager to continue this cycle.

                But that required figuring out a new way to create harmony between the clans. How would Ling decide who would succeed him if not through the old way? Further, he did not want to favor the largest clans over the smallest ones. But he was talking about generations of tradition and prejudice. He was not naïve enough to think that the country would be overturned and accepting of a new system overnight. Certainly, the largest clans were vehemently against reorganizing the social structure—they liked their influence, wealth, and power. So, the problem was how would Ling convince them otherwise without starting an all-out civil war?

                So wrapped up in his thoughts Ling was, he almost did not notice when Lan Fan stuck out her arm to stop him in his tracks. He practically ran into it regardless and turned to her in confusion.

                “Lan Fan, what—?” he began, but was quickly silenced by a curt shake of the head. She was crouched at the ready and had begun drawing a kunai. Ling took in their surroundings. They were in the hallway, as expected, and directly in front of Ling’s private quarters. The door was closed and the room dark. For a moment, Ling was unsure why they had stopped.

                Then, he realized what had Lan Fan on the defensive: there was a third presence coming from inside the room. It was human, relaxed, and apparently unconcerned with disguising their Dragon’s Pulse.

                Silently, Lan Fan turned her head and raised her hand slightly. _Stay here_. Ling frowned, unwilling to let Lan Fan run into possible danger on her own, but knew that in his flowing emperor’s robe and troublesome headpiece—and no weapons on him, besides—he would be of little help. Best he stayed out of the way and allow the very capable Lan Fan do her job. With a nod, he backed up a step.

                Satisfied, Lan Fan stepped forward, her paces light and silent. She paused in front of the sliding doors and took a single breath to prepare herself.

                In a burst of energy, Lan Fan threw open the door and dived inside. Not a moment later, there was the sound of two bodies colliding with another, a stranger’s grunt of surprise, and the sounds of a struggle. It did not last long, however; apparently, the stranger did not put up much of a fight. Lan Fan called out, “Your Majesty, it is safe”, and Ling stepped inside and turned on the lights.

                The scene before him was nothing short of dumbfounding. Lan Fan was sitting on the stranger’s back, holding his arms in a hand and beneath her knee while holding her kunai to his cheek—except the stranger was not a stranger at all, but the mirror image of Ling. He was cursing with very creative swears as Lan Fan dug her knee deeper into his back and his face was crushed against the hardwood floor.

                “ _Greed?_ ” Ling said at last, flabbergasted.

                “Yo, little prince,” Greed grinned—or, at least, grinned as much as he could with half his face in the floor. “Or I guess I should say little emperor now instead, huh?”

                “ _Your Majesty_ ,” Lan Fan enunciated testily, tightening her grip.

                “ _Shit_ —yeah, yeah, Your Majesty, His Holiness, Please Have My Babies and Bring Glory to My Clan—my bad,” Greed spat into the floor. “Nice to see you too, Lan Fan. Or, it would, if you weren’t sitting on my back. It’s annoying, by the way. And you can put _that_ away also,” he added, glancing at the kunai in his face. “You know I’m not going to do shit to Ling.” 

                Lan Fan glanced at Ling, who glared at Greed.

                “Wait a moment,” Ling said, raising a hand and stepping forward. “How can we be sure you’re truly the Greed we know?”

                “Are you kidding?” Greed said, looking genuinely shocked. When Ling’s expression did not change, Greed said impatiently, “How would I have recognized you and Lan Fan if I didn’t know you before?”

                “I’m the emperor, and she’s my personal guard,” said Ling. “We are hardly anonymous, particularly in this country. Your recognition is not credible proof of your identity.”

                “ _O-kay_ ,” Greed sneered. “If I _wasn’t_ Greed, why would I be here?”

                “I’m the emperor,” Ling repeated and crossed his arms. “Many people have made attempts at my life even before I came to the throne.”

                Greed snorted.

                “Further, I saw Greed die with my own eyes,” said Ling. “It’s been years since I’ve last seen him. And even if you are Greed, I cannot know for certain that you are _the_ Greed that I know. You could easily be another incarnation of Greed created to deceive me.”

                “Man, court has made your paranoid,” Greed rolled his eyes. “Okay, look kid: I know you saw me die, and that’s a long ass story that would take way too long to tell and would put too much strain on my back right now. But there are no more philosopher’s stones, so I couldn’t have been made.”

                “Then how are you here?” Ling demanded. “If you are not made from a philosopher’s stone, then are you no longer a homunculus? If you are indeed human, then you are truly not the Greed we know.”

                Greed made a frustrated sound. “Holy shit, Ling. Yeah, I’m fucking human. I made a deal with Truth and got a body back but sacrificed my philosopher’s stone. I’ve been fucking around the past couple of years but figured I’d see how my other self was doing, so here I am. That good enough for you?”

                No, it certainly wasn’t, but Ling was ready to accept the rushed story at face value for now—if he could really confirm that it was Greed that he was speaking to and not some disturbingly convincing fake. Still, it wasn’t a completely outlandish story. Ed had told Ling enough about Truth and the Gates to understand enough of what Greed was claiming. If Ed’s stories were to be believed—which Ling did—then he supposed it wasn’t a far stretch to say Truth gave Greed an entire body.

                “When we separated,” Ling said at last, “you told me something. What was it?”

                Greed groaned into the floor again. “Really? You still don’t trust me?”

                Ling’s frown only deepened.

                “God—I told you my first and only lie, okay?”           

                Not good enough. “What was it?”

                Another groan. “I said that ruling this backwater, shithole country was nothing compared to ruling the entire fucking world, but if I had to _fucking settle_ , it wouldn’t be so bad. Okay? Is that good enough? Can I fucking sit up now?”

                Ling was still hesitant—for all in intents and purposes, Greed had quite literally risen from the dead—but he could not think of another reason to doubt Greed. With a slow nod, he gave Lan Fan permission to let him up. Immediately, she did so, although she did not put away her weapon.

                “Man,” Greed sighed as he rose, stretching his back. “Next time, do me a favor and hold me down with the non-automail arm, okay?”  

                “What are you doing here, Greed?” Ling asked.

                “What? What do you mean what am I doing here?”

                “If I am to believe you,” said Ling, “you were resurrected and have been wandering the world for the past two years. Why are you here now?”

                “Maybe I was tired of being asked if I was the Emperor of Xing,” Greed rolled his eyes. “The multiple assassins sent after me was kind of annoying, I’m going to be honest with you.”

                “Why did you come back with my body?”

                “Versus what? My own body? I’m a red cloud of anger, kid.”

                “What about any of the other bodies you had?”

                “Look, Truth didn’t exactly give me a lineup. When some faceless dude gives you a second chance to live, you don’t ask too many questions.”

                That sounded fair enough.

                “Alright,” said Ling. “How long are you staying for? What do you need? What should I expect?”

                Greed made another irritated groan and moodily scowled. “Can’t you just say you’re happy to see an old friend?”

                Honestly, Ling wanted to—badly. The way Greed and he separated was painful to say the least. He kept thinking about the day over and over for weeks—months, even. If he had just seen around the lie, or if he had just paid more attention, or if he just fought harder, maybe everything could have changed. He was never a fan of sharing his own body with someone else, but he had to admit that he had grown familiar with Greed. Maybe he would even say they were friends—or almost friends, if not. He had lost a comrade that day.

                Then, to see Greed again, alive and well and even in his own body (although it was technically Ling’s), was nothing short of a miracle. Ling only wanted to celebrate and catch up with Greed on everything that had happened, let Ed and Alfonse know about the new development, and take relief in the fact that he had another ally in the whirlwind of stress his advisors called simple politics.

                But as the emperor, Ling did not have the luxury to indulge in such things. If it was anyone else, Ling could explain it away as a visit from a personal friend from his travels long ago. But with Greed looking the exact same as Ling, more questions would be raised than Ling would like—especially considering how badly some of the clans were sniffing around for dirt on him. He would need to know how long he would have to deal with Greed being in the palace—for everyone’s sake.

                But it was late, and he supposed that, for an old friend, this could all wait. With a mild sigh, Ling relaxed and said, “Alright, fine. We can talk about this later. You’re welcome to stay for a little while.”

                “Yeah, yeah, good to see you, too,” Greed snorted and rose to his feet. It was certainly an experience; standing in front of Ling was his exact copy in every way, except this one was dressed in unassuming black attire and held himself with an air of arrogance and self-assurance, a hand on his hip and the other running through his bangs. When he finished preening himself, he grinned and opened his arms wide.

                “How’s my little prince been doing?” he asked grandly, striding forward, apparently meaning to give Ling an embrace. Before he could get close, however, Lan Fan appeared between them, her kunai pointed at his chin.

                “Lan Fan,” Ling put a hand on her shoulder, “it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

                “Yeah, Lan Fan,” Greed grinned savagely, “like I said: I won’t do anything to little thin eyes over here.”

                Lan Fan’s grip tightened a little, but after a moment, she stepped aside as she was asked. She even put away her weapon.

                “You can leave if you’d like, Lan Fan,” said Ling. “I’ll be fine.”

                “If it’s all the same to you, Your Majesty,” Lan Fan said coldly, eyes on Greed, “I’d rather stay.”

                “Come _on_ , Lan Fan,” Greed drawled, throwing an arm over Ling’s shoulders and reeling him in. “The little prince will be safe with me.”

                Ling could tell that, even underneath her mask, Lan Fan looked less than reassured.

                “Lan Fan,” said Ling, “your room is right next door. I can take care of myself. It’s just Greed. I’ll be fine.”

                Lan Fan stared at him for a while before giving a curt nod. “Very well. Good night, Your Majesty.”

                “Good night, Lan Fan. See you tomorrow.”

                With one last meaningful glare at Greed, Lan Fan left the room. When they were alone, Greed put Ling in a headlock and patted his head.

                “Man, I’ve never had the chance to do this before!” he laughed, rubbing his knuckles into Ling’s forehead. He did it with the zeal of someone who’d thought about doing it for a while. “It’s been too long, little prince.”

                “I’m an emperor now,” sighed Ling, knowing Greed remembered the fact perfectly well. “Can you stop that? I’m still in my traditional clothing.”

                “Oh yeah, about that,” said Greed, although he let Ling go. He took a couple fistfuls of cloth and dragged Ling closer so he could get a closer look. “You’re doing pretty well for yourself, huh kid? Don’t know how you stand walking around in this shit, though. And what’s that on your head?” Greed looked up, and Ling found himself practically nose to nose with him. Greed didn’t seem to notice their closeness, instead taking a hand to tug at the tassels and beads decorating his hat.

                “It’s traditional,” Ling said wearily, tolerating the manhandling with as much dignity as he could.

                “It looks stupid,” said Greed. “You couldn’t choose something more fashionable?”

                “You mean something black?” Ling snorted. Greed looked back down, and now he seemed to notice how close they were. This close, Ling noticed Greed’s eyes were their signature red despite not being a homunculus anymore. He paused for a moment, perhaps thinking about something, while Ling quirked a brow.

                “What?” he said after a while. Greed shoved him away and snarled something unintelligible.

                “What?” Ling asked again. When Greed didn’t reply, Ling said instead, “Where do you want to sleep? There are lots of rooms nearby you can stay in; these are my private rooms.”

                “You have multiple rooms for yourself?” Greed grinned in glee. “Hah—nothing less for a king, huh?”

                “You can have _one_ of them,” Ling said, “for as long as you stay.”

                “You want me gone already?” Greed clicked his tongue. “And here I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

                “I don’t even know why you’re here,” Ling crossed his arms. “You’re lucky I believed your story in the first place. I’ve never heard of Truth giving back an entire body back before.”

                “What about the Elric brother?” Greed scowled. “The younger one? Alfonse?”

                “His soul was still bound here. What’s your excuse?”

                “I don’t make the rules, kid. I’m just here.”

                “But you gave up the philosopher’s stone?”

                “Yeah, I said that already.”

                “I didn’t think you’d ever give up anything,” Ling scoffed, vaguely impressed. “Since you’re Greed and all.”

                “Yeah, it sucked,” Greed sneered. “Bye, bye immortality. Oh, but I kept this, though.” With a grin, Greed rolled up his jacket sleeve to reveal his bare arm. Moments later, it was coated with dark carbon.

                “Eh?” Ling said in disbelief. “It took away the philosopher’s stone but let you keep that?”

                “Like I said,” Greed shrugged and transformed his arm back to normal, “I don’t make the rules. It’s how it worked out.”

                It sounded farfetched to Ling, but he couldn’t exactly claim to be an expert. As Ling grappled with this, however, Greed made himself at home in Ling’s room, poking inside his closet and helping himself to the platter of fruits that had been laid out already. Eventually, he made his way to Ling’s desk, where a pile of letters with official seals were piled up. Greed held an apple in his mouth while he ripped one open.

                “Wait!” Ling said when he finally comprehended what was happening. “You can’t just open those. Those are from the other clans only meant for—”

                “For what?” Greed snorted impatiently, taking the apple from his mouth. “The emperor’s eyes only?” He pointed to his own eyes and grinned.

                Ling sighed, but didn’t have the energy to argue. He left Greed to it, finally finding an opportunity to get out of his uncomfortable clothes.

                When he finished, he turned and found Greed with an apple stuck squarely in his mouth, eyes absently roaming somewhere just below Ling, when he seemed to realize he was facing Greed once again. Greed blinked before casually looking back at the letter in his hand.

                “You’re not getting juice on it, are you?” Ling asked wearily. Greed made a noise around his apple that sounded something like a “ _fuck off_ ”.

                “Give me that,” Ling strode over and plucked the letter out of Greed’s hands. The seal on it was from the Xing clan. Ling groaned internally.

                “Those guys sound pretty pissed,” said Greed. “Except they were saying it in a passive-aggressive way and made sure to call you ‘Your Radiance’ and shit like that.” He scowled around his apple. “I thought you were emperor. You haven’t gotten these guys to fall in line?”

                “It’s not that simple,” Ling sighed as he read over the letter.

                _Your Radiance,_

_Your dutiful servants of the Xing send their highest regards and thanks to Your Radiance. The people of the Xing loyally serve Your Radiance as we have all the others, as is our duty and tradition. May Your Radiance reign for one-hundred plentiful years and live another one-hundred more. May the harvest under Your Radiance’s reign be plentiful and ever-flowing. May the peace of the nation under Your Radiance’s reign be everlasting and far flung. May the tales of Your Radiance’s accomplishments be heard near and far across the land so that all may know under what greatness we, the people of Xing, serve under._

_Your dutiful servants of the Xing beg for Your Radiance’s mercy and benevolence. With the new policies set by Your Radiance, which were undoubtedly genius and right by the glory vested in Your Radiance by the previous emperor, the land of the Xing has been overrun by foreigners. Our soldiers, which so fervently protect Your Majesty, are weakened because of lack of food. Our wives, which so joyously sew and craft to serve Your Majesty, are stifled in their efforts because of the influx of other clans. Our children, who so happily sing praises to please Your Majesty, cry out for spaces to play and run free without being trampled underfoot by those that would come with Your Majesty’s decree._

_Surely, Your Glory’s plan is something greater than that the people of the Xing may understand. Yet, the people of the Xing implore Your Glory’s reconsideration. Without Your Glory’s soldiers, his country will be weakened. Without Your Glory’s wives, his commerce will falter. Without Your Glory’s children, his nation will fall. Of course, the people of the Xing do not wish for this, and pray for Your Glory’s everlasting reign. But the people of the Xing also beg Your Glory for his kindness: staunch the number of foreigners in the Xing lands, or we people of the Xing fear for Your Glory’s kingdom._

_With reverence, servitude, and humility,_

_Xing Xuan_

                “If your eyebrows keep doing that,” Greed said, “your face will stick like that.”

                Ling looked up to find Greed pointing a finger at his forehead. Impatiently, he swatted away Greed’s hand.

                “Ah,” Greed shook out his hand in mock pain, “you’re no fun anymore.”

                “I didn’t become emperor to have _fun_ ,” Ling scowled.

                “Why not? You can do whatever you want as an emperor,” Greed grinned. “If these Xing guys are giving you shit, just do some emperor shit back and move on.”

                “Like I said,” Ling sighed, “it’s not that simple.” He threw the letter onto the desk and stared at the pile of unopened ones waiting before throwing himself into his bed facedown.

                “ _A-aa-ah_ ,” Ling moaned into the pillow. “I wish I could just hang around everybody like before.”

                “Hey,” said Greed, hopping into the bed and throwing his arms behind his head to make himself comfortable, “I’m here. That’s most of the group, right there.”

                When Ling did not respond, Greed snorted.

                “ _Fine_ ,” Greed heaved. “What’s the problem with these Xing guys? Why can’t we just smite them?”

                “There’s no ‘we’,” Ling held up a finger without looking up. “ _I’m_ the emperor, not you.”

                “Hey, it if wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t _be_ emperor,” Greed pushed the finger away. “I think that means I deserve some credit—if not be the emperor myself.”

                “ _Hah_ ,” Ling barked and turned his face a little so one of his eyes was looking up at Greed, smiling. “Good one. But Xing wouldn’t have respect for an idiot like you.”

                “There he is,” Greed grinned, eyes lighting up. “I was beginning to think I’d come to the wrong palace.”

                “Funny.”

                “Not a joke,” Greed snorted. “You’re a lot of things, but I never thought my old host was some weakling. If it was me, these guys wouldn’t even have the chance to throw in complaints.”

                “The Xing is the most powerful clan in Xing,” Ling groaned and rubbed his head, feeling the impending headache. “It was after them that the country was named. The first emperor was from their clan and stayed in it until one of them decided to take fifty wives and the entire system of succession changed.

“And, anyways, they still have allies in the other clans. I know for a fact that the next four powerful clans will rally to the Xing if they called. That’s a total of almost a fourth of the entire imperial army—and that’s not even accounting for all the other clans that might fight for the Xing instead of me. It’d be a civil war.”

                “So?”

                “ _So_?” Ling repeated in disbelief, shooting up and staring at Greed.

                “Yeah,” shrugged Greed. “So?”

                “What do you mean ‘so’?” Ling demanded. “What kind of leader would I be if I willingly led my people into war?”

                Greed looked wholly unimpressed.

                “A king is nothing without his people,” Ling emphasized, expression serious. “A ruler of no one is not a ruler at all.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Greed waved his hand. “I remember.”

                “So, you shouldn’t ask why I don’t just ‘smite them’,” Ling sighed, energy suddenly draining from his face. “I want to find a peaceful resolution if I can. I don’t want Xing to be a repeat of Amestris.”

                Greed hummed thoughtfully. “Guess that would suck, huh?”

                Ling snorted and did not dignify that with a response. Despite himself, Ling found himself enjoying the familiarity of their dynamic. He wasn’t sure if he had laughed this much since he became emperor—albeit bitter, ironic laughter. Greed had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night from the dead without explanation, and Ling was not completely prepared to simply accept he was simply _here_ without strings attached. After all, everything had a price. Ed and Alfonse taught him that well enough.

                Still, in the stillness of his room, shut away from the rest of Xing, it was as if he was sharing his body with Greed once again. With his face in the pillow, he could imagine the presence he felt at his side was in fact just the familiar mental presence of Greed from before. At first, it had been irritating, disturbing, and stressful to share everything with another person. After a while, the quiet company had become comforting. So, perhaps just for tonight, he could enjoy Greed’s company as he’d done so many years before.

                After a while, when it occurred to Ling that he had not said so, he told Greed, “It’s good to see you.”

                Greed chuckled a little, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Yeah, you too, kid.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the positive feedback so far. 
> 
> at the moment it's mostly expositional instead of shippy but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

                Ling woke up to a smart crack of teeth entering fruit. With a mild groan, he sat up in bed and saw himself sitting at his desk, eating an apple and reading over his letters. Presently, he finished his apple and threw the core into the small pile of cores on the floor.

                For a second, Ling thought he was still asleep. He was certain he was sitting in his bed, dressed in his pajamas and fighting off sleep, but so was he sitting in his desk, diligently reading letters and eating breakfast.

                Then, he remembered: Greed arrived out of the blue last night. Just as he was remembering so, Greed turned in his seat, one of his cheeks bloated with apple.

                “Yo!” he grinned, still chewing. Ling made a disgusted sound and fell back in bed. He wasn’t dealing with Greed this early if he had to. Before, when they shared a body, they started clashing the moment one of them woke up—because if one did, the other one had to. Usually, it was Greed waking up first. Ling always thought it was because he was a homunculus and didn’t need as much sleep for whatever reason, but apparently, he was always an early riser.

                And, apparently, old habits die hard. Ling heard the grate of chair legs on wood before the bed bounced with new weight.

                “Hey, hey,” said Greed, throwing himself next to Ling, shoulder to shoulder, and elbowing him in the side. “Did you know the Xia are prepared to give you _five_ wives to ‘Your Benevolence’? Kid, that’s, like, four more wives than you’d usually get. This is awesome!”

                Ling made a noncommittal grunt from somewhere beneath his sheets.

                “And the Qing are saying they’ve got a thing for eternal youth,” Greed continued, shuffling around some papers. “I mean, they’re fucking full of shit, but I want to see what these humans have cooked up this time.”

                “You’re human, too,” Ling sighed into his pillow.

                “Barely,” Greed scoffed. Ling opened one eye to spot him sticking out his tongue in disgust. “How do you guys do this, by the way? I’m hungry all the fucking time.”

                “Maybe you’re going through a growth spurt,” Ling drawled, shutting his eye again.

                “A what?”

                “Nothing.”

                “Hey, are you even paying attention?” The bed shifted again, and now Greed was half on top of Ling, waving papers in his face. “These clans are ready to lie down and let you walk all over them, kid!”

                “No, they’re not,” Ling said impatiently. “Something must be given to receive something else.”

                “Ha,” Greed snorted, falling back onto the bed, “you’re starting to sound like Fullmetal.”

                “Alchemy applies to a lot of things,” Ling said. “They’re offering me favors so I’ll owe them later or to curry favor with me. I can’t just take extra wives or extra presents from a single clan, or they’ll expect something from me later.”

                “Just don’t give it to them! You’re emperor. You’d better be sure as hell I wouldn’t give them shit.”

                “ _You_ wouldn’t,” said Ling, “but you also suggested I cause a civil war last night, so excuse me if I don’t appreciate your advice.”

                “I _have_ lived for thousands of years, you know,” Greed sniffed. “I had a body before yours, remember?”

                “And _you_ told me you don’t remember anything from those other bodies, remember?” Ling snapped back. “Don’t act smart.”  

                “Man,” Greed drawled and sank deeper into the bed, “you’re about as fun in the mornings as I remember.”

                Ling made a sound but didn’t actually speak.

                “You know you kick in your sleep?” Greed continued. “Fucking nearly kicked me off the bed at least twice.”

                “You slept here?” Ling rose a little.

                “Uh, my bad?” Greed paused in perusing the letters with a mild frown, evidently confused.

                “There're dozens of rooms just out in the hall,” Ling sighed and fell back into bed. “Sleep in one of those tonight.”

                “But are they all as nice as the emperor’s room, though?” The grin was clear in his voice.

                Ling groaned. “They’re all perfectly fine rooms.”

                “Not good enough, kid,” Greed laughed. “Either you share this room with me or you go on and stay in one of those other ‘perfectly fine’ rooms of yours.”

                It was like debating with an unreasonable child—but when it came to his wants, Greed was unreasonable, indeed. Luckily, Ling was not an overly proud man; he would sleep in one of the other rooms tonight if Greed insisted on staying in this one.

                Not a moment later, someone knocked the door in two smart raps. “Your Majesty,” sounded Lan Fan’s voice from outside, “the clan leaders are waiting for you.”

                “Thank you, Lan Fan,” Ling called. “I’ll be there soon.”

                “The clan leaders?” Greed repeated, eyebrows raised minutely. “You’re meeting with all the clans?”

                “No,” Ling sighed as he regretfully slid out of bed. “I’m meeting with the Yao leaders. They want to discuss my policies.”

                “Not a fan of spreading the wealth, huh?” Greed snorted. “Can’t exactly blame them.”

                “Please,” Ling heaved, “I’m going to get enough shit from them. Don’t start with me.”

                Greed looked for a moment like he was going to argue, then gave a mild frown, said, “Yeah, whatever,” and went back to reading over Ling’s letters.

                “ _Thank_ you,” Ling said, relieved. “I’m going to go take a shower. Please don’t walk around.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Greed waved a disinterested hand, nose still in the letters. Ling felt mildly ashamed that Greed knew more about the contents of them all than he did, but there was little to do about it now. He changed into his bathrobe and made his way to his bathroom.

                When Ling returned, hair damp and towel around his shoulders, Greed was right where he left him, although the pile of unopened letters on the desk was slightly shorter than before, and the pile of opened letters on the bed next to Greed had grown a bit. At his entrance, Greed looked up, took Ling in for a moment, and said, “You smell like fucking petunias.”

                “It’s lavender oil, not petunia,” Ling replied without missing a beat as he dressed. Meanwhile, Greed clambered out of bed, bringing the letters with him.

                “The Chang clan was expressing their gratitude,” Greed read off. “That’s the little princess’ clan, right?”

                “That’s right.”

                “Where is she? This isn’t from her.”

                “She’s in Amestris right now,” said Ling. “She’s visiting Alfonse. Where’s my...?”

                Without a word, Greed seemed to materialize Ling’s crown from out of thin air into his hand. Ling didn’t even try to reason out how Greed knew what he was talking about; they had shared a body before, after all. There was likely no one else in the world that knew him better than Greed did—and vice versa.

                “Oh yeah,” Greed said as Ling took his crown, “they were a thing, right? Did she propose to him yet?”

                “Not yet,” Ling smiled faintly. “How do I look?”

                Greed stepped back and observed Ling in his royal garb and headpiece. “You look rich as fuck.”

                “That’s the point.”

                Greed reached out and adjusted Ling’s collar. “you’d think an emperor of a country would be able to dress himself, eh, kid?”

                Ling snorted before heading for the door. “Stay. Here.”

                “ _A-aa-ah_ ,” Greed sighed and scratched his head. “So boring. Yeah, whatever. I’ll stay in here.”

                With that, Ling stepped out and found Lan Fan at the door. She bowed and said, “Are you ready, Your Majesty?”

                “Yes,” said Ling. “However, Lan Fan, can you stay here and make sure Greed doesn’t try and sneak out? He said he wouldn’t but.”

                _But_. And, indeed, that was all that needed to be said. Lan Fan bowed again and replied, “Yes, of course, Your Majesty. Should I send another guard with you to the war room?”

                “These are my own clansmen,” said Ling. “There’s no reason for them to harm me.” Because if they did, they would not claim power to the throne and lose whatever opportunity they had at influence for generations.

                The war room was on the opposite side of the castle from the throne room. Between them was a maze of rooms for sleeping, meeting, and entertaining, but Ling’s particular hall of chambers had direct paths to all the major areas.

                When Ling arrived, the long table set in the middle of the room was already filled with the major leaders of the Yao clan. They rose and bowed when he entered and did not sit again until he had done so, himself.

                “Everyone,” Ling nodded to them. “Thank you for being here today. How are relations with the Chang clan?”

                A few men glanced at each other. One of them, Yong, leaned forward and said, “Your Majesty, we have been accommodating and welcoming to the Chang. They have assimilated well, I think, and trade has bolstered between us.”

                “Good,” Ling nodded. “Then, moving on—”

                “Your Majesty,” Yong interrupted. When Ling looked back at him, Yong seemed to shrivel a little, reluctance flickering over his broad face, then regained his confidence. “Your Majesty, I beg for your pardon, but some of us—many of us, actually—are questioning your reasoning for these new policies.”

                “Questioning?” Ling repeated, raising a brow and frowning. “I was not aware your role was to question, Yong.”

                “We are your advisors, Your Majesty, and your clansmen.”

                “Then advise,” Ling said coldly. “Do you mean to tell me you are going to announce to the world you do not support your own emperor from your own clan? What credibility, then, will you have after I am gone?”

                The room shifted uncomfortably.

                “Your Radiance,” now said another, Jun. Where Yong was wide and stout, Jun was thin and wiry. “We are not questioning your loyalty nor your intelligence. Perhaps ‘questioning’ is the wrong word—with respect to my fellow clansman Yong. Perhaps the more appropriate word is ‘curious’. We have been following your orders dutifully, as is expected of us, but we simply wonder what you hope to achieve by assimilating some of the weakest clans with the most powerful. You are opening up trade routes where there were none before, ordering expansion of education, and mandatory military drafting from each clan rather than basing it from volunteers.”

                “I am aware of my own policies, Jun.”

                “Then you know far more than we,” Jun inclined his head. “As your advisors, we only wish to serve you as best as we can—for the clan and for country. But we cannot do this if we do not understand what you are thinking. We ask you humbly that you grant us some knowledge of your thoughts so that we might continue to serve.”

                Unfortunately for Ling, Jun was far better at words than Yong was. Ling’s brow furrowed for a moment.

                “Tell me, clansmen,” Ling said at last, “how many assassination attempts have there been on my life before I was made emperor?”

                “No less than three tens and four, if I remember correctly, Your Majesty,” said one.

                “I remember it closer to four tens,” another chimed in.

                “Very well,” Ling held up a hand before someone else could interject. “Clearly, there have been multiple attempts. For simplicity, let us say that there have been four tens attempts. Let us assume, then, that all heirs are subject to the same number of assassinations. That means there are two hundred of attempts by the time they are all my age. All the while, the emperor, my father, demands tribute from the clans and accepts forms of bribery and sells his seat to the highest bidder. Does this seem to you all as a fair and just system?”

                “Your Radiance asks a difficult question,” said Jun. “There is no system, truly, that is fair and just.”

                “Perhaps my question was _too_ difficult,” Ling replied dryly. “I asked if the system was fair and just, not if all systems were so.”

                His advisors glanced at each other.

                “No, Your Majesty,” Jun relented at last, “I suppose the system does not sound fair or just.”

                “And, if this system is not fair or just, do you believe that I, as the emperor of this great nation, should maintain such a system?”

                The room shifted uncomfortably.

                “Your Radiance, if I may—”

                “Is this question too difficult once more?” Ling cut Jun off. “Shall I repeat myself so you might understand?”

                “No, Your Radiance,” Jun ducked his head. “But, Your Radiance, it cannot be denied that this system has persisted for generations. To overturn it now would throw the nation into chaos.”

                “I do not suggest ridding years of culture in one night,” Ling replied. “I am suggesting we slowly replace the system with a new one, where power is evenly distributed and all might have fair and equal opportunity. Literacy rates for the Xing, for example, are nearly double that of the Chang, and their imports nearly triple. The five major clans represent a staggering fraction of the imperial army. Does this not make you uncomfortable? What stops these powerful clans from rising against us?”

                “There has been no precedent of this,” quipped someone.

                “Of course not,” Ling said impatiently. “These five clans have been emperors since the start of Xing. Besides me, there has only been one emperor in all of Xingese history that has not been from the Xing, Shang, Zhou, Xia, or Qin clans. Is this not so?”

                The silence in the room was answer enough.

                “But Your Radiance,” a new man—Yi—broke the silence, “one cannot deny the benefits that are afforded the clan whose heir sits on the throne. Is it not Your Radiance’s duty to put his own clan first?”

                “The emperor does not have a clan, only his nation.”

                “You would forsake us?” exclaimed another. He rose out from his seat, expression furious. Ling considered him for a moment as the room stilled.

                “Lei,” Ling finally said softly, “I would bid you to take your seat once more and mind your tone.”

                “You may have been borne from the previous emperor, but it was us, the Yao, that raised you!” thundered Lei. “Now you are in power and you would abandon us? You presume too much! We will not let this stand, boy, mark my words—”

                In that moment, when Lei raised his fist in enraged fervor, a dark clothed, masked individual appeared and gripped his wrist tight. Lei’s words were choked off with the sudden knife pressed against his throat.

                For a second, Ling thought that the person was Lan Fan, then noted that they were far too tall to be her, and anyways, the mask was different. Even as he was thinking so, Lan Fan appeared at his side, hands folded behind her back and head bowed respectfully.

                “Your Majesty,” she said, “we apologize for the interruption.”

                Ling glanced curiously at the new guard, but now was not the time to ask. Instead, he said, “Think nothing of it, Lan Fan” and turned back to Lei, who was still shuddering under the strong grip of the one holding him.

                “Is this true, clansmen?” Ling asked, voice frigid. “Your fellow man Lei said, ‘we will not let this stand’. I presume he meant ‘we’ as a pronoun for you all. Do you all mean to stand against me? Speak now; I dislike treachery even more than I do betrayal.”

                “No, Your Radiance!” the hall replied immediately, his advisors bowing to him—all but Lei, whose legs had now begun to wobble.

                “Then how might you explain Lei’s exclamation?”

                “He spoke out of turn, Your Majesty,” Jun said, head still bowed. “Please, show him mercy.”

                “Mercy?” Ling repeated, leaning his head on a hand. “Did the previous emperor exercise mercy? Did he not execute any and all those who crossed him, as was his right?”

                Ling was met with silence.

                “Well,” he said after allowing the silence to stew for a little while, “as I said before, the previous system was neither fair nor just. I am changing it. Release Lei.”

                There was a fraction of hesitation in his new guard—one that perhaps would not be noticed by the casual passerby but significant for someone that was used to Lan Fan’s immediate obedience. Nevertheless, Lei was released, and he fell to the floor on his knees and bowed, pressing his forehead to the floor.

                “Your Radiance,” he gasped out, “I apologize deeply and thank you for your mercy. Surely, Your Radiance will lead an era more prosperous and great than the previous—”

                “Enough,” Ling straightened and held up a hand. Immediately, Lei ceased his babbling.

                “Advisors, I have heard you well,” said Ling, “but the fact remains that I am the emperor. Whether or not you understand or approve of my plans means little to me; what I care more for is that my plans are carried out. If you have suggestions on how to improve the pace or administration of these plans, I am welcome to them—but be aware that these changes are happening. If you value the preservation of the Yao as a clan, you will assist me.”

                This was a grand claim; in fact, Ling could not and would not guarantee the changes would happen if he did not have the support of the major clans. Surely, the other advisors were aware of this. Luckily, they didn’t mention it—for now.

                “Yes, Your Radiance,” they murmured.

                “Very well,” Ling rose. “That is all for today.”

                The room remained bowed as he turned and left in a sweep of silk robes, his two guards close behind. It was not until he returned to his room, however, and shut the door behind him when he collapsed against the wall and breathed in a long, deep sigh of relief.

                “Ah,” he said to himself more than anything, “that was scary.”

                “I thought you were great!”

                Shocked, Ling whipped his head to stare at the new guard, who he now noticed was suspiciously similar in height to him. With a flourish, the guard took off his mask. Underneath, grinning widely, was, of course, none other than Greed.

                “I thought I told you to stay in the room,” Ling frowned.

                “I got bored,” Greed shrugged nonchalantly, throwing the mask onto a nearby couch. “Sue me.”

                “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Lan Fan bowed on his other side. “He was very...insistent. I tried to make him look as inconspicuous as possible.”

                Frankly, Ling didn’t blame Lan Fan at all. When Greed wanted something, he wanted it. He was only thankful that Lan Fan had the shrewd thinking to dress him in a way that was both unsuspicious and hid his face well.

                “I don’t know how you guys fight in this shit,” Greed was saying in the meanwhile, arms crossed and frowning at Lan Fan. “Isn’t it too stuffy?”

                “It is preferable to being half naked,” Lan Fan replied flatly. Greed snorted.

                “I’m not _half naked_ ,” Greed rolled his eyes.

                “Your choice in clothes treats the emperor immodestly.”

                “It’s _my_ body. I’ll treat it how I like. My bad if tighter clothes make you uncomfortable.”

                “It is _not_ your body!” Lan Fan exclaimed. “It never was your body! And if His Majesty is merciful enough to allow you to stay in it, the least you could do is not flaunt about and cause more trouble for him from within!”

                “He seemed to handle it all well.” Greed’s grin was savage as he looked at Ling, who sighed.

                “I don’t want to talk about it,” Ling waved a hand as he collapsed on the couch. “I’m just glad it’s over; I thought it was going to happen weeks ago.”

                “ _Well_ ,” Greed said as he slid beside Ling and slung an arm around his shoulders, “I think you did _great_ , kid. Thought you looked pretty good in there.”

                “I’m not sure it’s a compliment if it’s from you,” Ling said. Greed just sidled closer and hugged them together, smiling wide.

                “Don’t be like that,” Greed chuckled. “Bet your princess heart got all fluttery when I swooped in to save the day too, huh?”

                “Extremely,” Ling deadpanned.

                “There are more leaders requesting your audience today, Your Majesty,” Lan Fan interrupted them. Ling leaned his head against the back of the couch and groaned.

                “Man,” Greed sighed, “haven’t we been through enough already, today?”

                Ling socked him in the head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a Short chapter before i run to class. think of it as a short interlude before the politics really set in.
> 
> as always, thanks for the positive feedback so far. sorry for the cliffhanger but???? also not really??? well, anyways, we made it.

                The next week was more or less the same as the last few days—and, indeed, the past few months, although the Greed’s sudden presence added an element of lightheartedness Ling hadn’t even realized he sorely needed. Certainly, Lan Fan was a familiar comfort, and Ling was grateful to have her, but she and rest of court treated him as an emperor. Greed simply treated him as a person—perhaps even less so: as a child that was to be teased. It reminded Ling of his adventures with Ed and Alfonse so many years ago, how he wasn’t treated as a prince or a potential ruler but as a friend. Greed’s presence made Ling realize how large and empty his palace was.

                It also made him cautious, however. Despite the evenings spent in comfortable quipping and smart comebacks, Greed still hadn’t revealed the true nature of his return. Was he simply in the palace to see Ling again? Ling would be lying if he said that he did not hope so—certainly, because he missed Greed, and he was happy to see him again despite everything, but also because he was tired of people wanting things from him. He had grown used to beginning conversations with the expectation that the other would ask something of him or offer him something with expectations of something from him down the line.

                So, even though Ling would’ve liked to think Greed had come for the pleasure of Ling’s company, he had to consider the worst alternatives, and it made him feel sick. It spoiled the casual conversations he had with Greed, or the carefree laughs he had with him. It made him feel rotten for doubting a comrade and friend. It was not so ridiculous, Ling sometimes reasoned, to think Greed really did just want to spend some time with the only person left alive in the world that knew him as well as he might know himself.

                But, Ling would think to himself at other times, it would be ridiculous to forget that Greed would always, _always_ want _more_.

                “Yo,” Greed grinned as Ling stumbled into his bedroom one morning. Greed was sitting in Ling’s bed, smug and confident and wide awake. “Sleep well?”

                Ling just sighed and went to his closet. He had already accepted his bedroom would be commandeered by Greed for the duration of his stay. That was fine; Ling had about fifteen rooms for just himself—although admittedly, the beds were not as comfortable as his own.

                “You know,” said Greed, as if reading Ling’s mind, “there’s plenty of room if you want to stay here.” Ling looked back to find Greed affectionately patting the empty half of the bed, expression coy. Ling made a noise and went back to getting dressed. Unbidden, Greed slipped out of bed and joined Ling at his side. Ling had just finished putting on his pants when Greed leaned on his bare shoulder and grinned at the pair of them in the mirror.

                “You’re putting on a bit there, don’t you think, Your Majesty?” Greed chuckled and patted Ling’s stomach. Ling shrugged him off.

                “What’s on the schedule today?” 

                “Meetings,” Ling said blandly, “then more meetings. Later, if I’m lucky, I might have another meeting.”

                “ _Lame_ ,” Greed rolled his eyes. He slung his arm over Ling’s shoulders again and drew them close. “Hey, you want to get a night out in town?”

                The thought was tempting, but practically, it was beyond stupid.

                “No,” Ling replied, voice flat.

                “Just skip for a day,” Greed pressed, perching his chin on Ling’s shoulder. “Tell them you’re sick. They can’t say shit.”

                “I can’t just run around the city as the emperor,” Ling said. “Everyone knows who I am. And _you_ can’t run around, either.”

                “We can wear masks,” Greed insisted. At this proximity, Ling could feel Greed’s breath on his cheek. “No one will know. Come on, kid—you’re too stressed. Unwind.”

                Ling paused far longer than was appropriate, but in the end, he did curtly say, “No.” With a click of his tongue, Greed relented. He released Ling and stalked back over to the bed.

                “Well, I’ll just be here,” he drawled, throwing himself into the sheets, “whenever you want to join me.”

                “No bodyguard duty today?”

                “If you want to spend time with me,” Greed grinned, putting his arms behind his head and stretching out on the mattress, “you only need to ask.”

                “Forget it.”

                Since then, however, Greed seemed determined to keep Ling preoccupied as much as possible within the palace. If he could not explore the world outside, he would learn about it as much as he could from inside. He had taken to asking Ling a plethora of questions about the country: whose clan was the richest, whose clan was the most powerful, whose clan was the weakest, where the Yao fit in out of everything, and on and on. Eventually, Ling agreed—begrudgingly—to teach Greed about the clans in his free time.

                “And the northern port clan is the Qing?” Greed frowned some days later, staring at the piece of paper in his hand.

                Ling scratched his head and sighed. “ _No_ , it’s the _Qin_.”

                “Same thing,” Greed scrunched up his nose.

                “The Qin is the fifth largest clan in the country,” Ling heaved. “The Qing is the sixteenth and is landlocked between the Wu, Chen, Hsu, Tao, and Cao clans. Its profits, imports, and exports are only two-thirds of that to the Qin—or maybe half. I haven’t seen the updated data for the year. One of them can overtake the palace in a fortnight if they tried. The other has almost no presence in the imperial army. They are _not_ the same thing.”

                Greed stuck out his tongue and made a disgusted noise before throwing the unmarked map of Xing over his shoulder. “This country sucks.”

                “You’re allowed to leave whenever you want.”

                There was a pause before Greed said, “Did I do something?”

                “What?” Ling looked up and found Greed glaring at him, red eyes hard and frustrated.

                “Did I. Fucking. Do something,” he enunciated again.

                “What? No.”

                “Then why the fuck have you been trying to get rid of me since day one?” Greed demanded. “One second we’re having a fun time talking, the next, you’re giving me shit and telling me to fuck off. What the fucking problem?”

                “There’s no problem,” Ling said automatically. “I’m just stressed. I’m sorry.”

                “Bullshit,” Greed snapped. “I’m trying to learn about your dumbass country and helping you out, and you’re treating me like shit.”

                “Then leave!” Ling retaliated indignantly, shooting up and snapping his hand to the side in a dismissive sweep. “No one is keeping you here! You’re allowed to do whatever you want. The only reason you’re here at all is because you came here, yourself. The door is that way. You’ve let yourself in. You know where it is.”

                “Fuck you!” Greed leaped up and seized Ling’s shirtfront in a fist. Ling lurched forward as Greed snarled, “Fucking two years I ran around the world thinking about whether or not I should show my fucking face to you again. You think I want to be stuck in some fucking palace wearing a mask all the fucking time running around behind you like I’m some fucking servant?”

                “Sorry I can’t give you the God damn crown,” sneered Ling. “I’ve been through too much to hand it over to someone like the likes of you.”

                “You mean the shit _we’ve_ been through!” Greed roared into his face, dragging Ling in until they were nose to nose. “The only reason you’ve got the shit throne is because you had _me_ with you! The only reason you survived Amestris is because of _me_! And the only reason this place hasn’t driven you batshit crazy is because of _me_!”

                “What do you expect?” Ling snorted. “My thanks?”

                Greed barked out a laugh. “My bad, _Your Majesty_. Guess I figured you’d be happy to see me!”

                “ _Happy_?” Ling spat. “You fucking appear in my room in the middle of the night with no explanation and expect me to accept it at face value? You’re _fucking Greed_! You think I’m going to believe you came here just to see me? What are you after, huh? The crown? The palace? The country? And then what? The world? All the women, all the money, all the power?” Ling opened an eye just a sliver. “ _Like Hell_.”

                Greed grit his teeth, looking at Ling in the eye before his gaze flickered down somewhat, then back up again. Then, with a growl, he exclaimed, “ _Fuck!_ ” and abruptly let Ling go. Ling stumbled a bit but regained his balance in time to see Greed turn his back to him and rake a hand through his hair. His shoulders were heaving as he gathered himself. It took Ling a moment to realize that he, too, was catching his breath in the same rhythm.

                After some time, Greed turned around, brow furrowed and lips pulled into a frown but looking marginally less irritated. “Do you actually think I came here to steal your kingdom?”

                Ling blinked, surprised, because Greed’s tone was surprisingly genuine.

                “I don’t know what to think,” Ling replied honestly, because it seemed inappropriate to dishonor Greed’s vulnerability.

                “Weren’t we comrades?” Greed asked, hand on his chest. “Friends?”

                “Comrades, yes,” Ling agreed, “but friends? I’m not sure. I thought you didn’t want friends.”

                Greed clicked his tongue and scratched his head. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Then he looked up and crossed his arms. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

                “Thanks.”

                “No, you’re actually an idiot.”

                “Thanks.”

                “ _Fuck!_ ” Greed snapped again. “Holy _shit_ , you’re stupid.”

                “Please,” Ling rolled his eyes and collapsed back into his seat, thinking the argument over, “continue.”

                Apparently, the argument was _not_ over, however. Greed surged forward and placed one hand on each arm of the chair and penned Ling in, positively snarling.

                “You’re an _idiot_ ,” he spat, “ _stupid_ , don’t know what the _fuck_ is going on. I can’t fucking _believe_ we shared the same _fucking body_ and you still don’t _fucking get it_. What else do I have to _fucking do_?”

                He leaned in close with each word, expression furious, eyes blazing and grip tightening on the chair. Idly, Ling wondered if he would rip the fabric.

                “All those nights?” Greed pressed insistently, calling Ling’s attention again. “Those days spent together? And since I’ve been here? Everything I’ve fucking done, and you still don’t get it?”

                Ling was mesmerized as Greed was now only centimeters from him, noses almost touching, the heat of his gaze threatening to burn through him. Ling was suddenly aware of how _close_ Greed was, what with his arms caging him in on either side and leaning over him, his face so close that Ling could feel the heat of fury thrumming off him.

                “Holy _shit_ ,” Greed hung his head when Ling doesn’t say anything. His forehead lands on Ling’s shoulder, and it lingered there briefly as if he was savoring the interaction. “Maybe _I’m_ the stupid one, huh?”

                Before Ling could even begin to gather his thoughts to say something at last, Greed looked up again and, without warning, signal, or hesitation, closed the gap between them and kissed him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm doing a double update because this chapter is so short it probably doesn't deserve to be called a chapter. perhaps i'll attach it to the end of the previous chapter one day, but today is not that day. 
> 
> as always, thanks for reading along and your positive feedback.

               “ _Out!_ ” a voice thundered through the hallway.

               “For fuck’s sake, kid—”

               “ _Get out!_ ” Ling ordered again, and the door of his room was thrown open and Greed pushed through bodily. Even in his pajamas, never before had Ling looked more like the Emperor. His expression was nothing short of furious, a flush of color on his cheeks, brows furrowed and mouth slanted downwards in disgust.

               “Kid,” Greed begins, face torn somewhere between frustration and shame, “listen—”

               “You think,” Ling cut him off, voice lower now, but still dangerously threatening, “you can just appear here, out of nowhere, have your way, get whatever you want—?” He snarled and raked his hand through his head. “Of course you do. It’s who you are. What was I expecting?” Ling laughed without sounded particularly humorous.

               “Ling,” Greed said cautiously, taking a small step forward, hands up and open in a hesitant attempt to calm him.

               “ _Don’t_ ,” Ling sobered immediately, holding up a hand and glaring. “ _Do not_ come anywhere near me. Frivolous, inconsiderate, selfish—!” Ling laughed again before turning his back to Greed and holding his face in his hand. He went quiet. The hallway was heavy with tension.

               “Your Majesty?” a quiet voice broke the atmosphere some time later. Ling recognized the voice immediately: Lan Fan, the voice of reason, dependable and dutiful, responsible and respectful. A splash of relief in the tide of fury he felt.

               “I heard shouts,” Lan Fan continued when she was not immediately addressed. No doubt she was taking in the scene before her: Ling and Greed dressed in pajamas, Greed looking cautious and careful and Ling with his back turned towards him, obviously upset over something.

               “We got it,” Greed tried to dismiss Lan Fan after Ling didn’t respond. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

               “No,” Ling raised a hand, stopping Greed from speaking, but not yet turning. “No, it _was_ a big deal, and still is.” He half turned his head to glance at Lan Fan without having to look at Greed. He would not do him the luxury of looking Ling in the eyes.

               “Lan Fan,” Ling said, “please show Greed to a room. He will be staying there for the night. In the morning, I want him gone.”

               “ _Fucking_ —Ling!”

               “Am I understood?” Ling ignored Greed, lips tight. Lan Fan glanced between the pair of them before bowing.

               “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Lan Fan before moving to Greed.

               “Get off me,” Ling heard Greed snap. “Ling, for fuck’s sake, don’t be fucking stupid. Fucking _get off me_! Ling—”

               “I want him out of my sight,” Ling ordered with finality. “Get him out of here.”

               “Ling!” Greed shouted, sounding both furious and desperate. “I swear to _fucking God_ , Ling!”

               Without waiting to see if Lan Fan successfully manhandled Greed to another room, Ling returned inside his quarters and shut the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you didn't catch it, this is the second chapter of a double update that i've posted. the previous chapter was so short i decided it would be stupid to just post that on its own. 
> 
> as always, i hope you enjoy.

               “It’s good to see you again,” Mei smiled over her cup of tea in the bubbly, genuine way only Mei could pull off. “It’s been so long.” At her side, sitting on the ground now that she was far too large to perch on Mei’s shoulder, was Shao-Mei, who nodded her agreement. They were outside in the palace’s gardens, surrounded by flowering cherry trees and trimmed hedges. Somewhere, some distance away, the quiet trickling of a river sounded.

               “It’s good to see you, too,” Ling replied genuinely. He did not have enough allies, much less friends, in the palace. And while Ling understood and encouraged Mei to visit Amestris to visit Alfonse and learn western alchemy, he always eagerly awaited her return.

               “Things sound like they’ve been stressful,” Mei said sympathetically.

               “That’s one word for it,” Ling said pleasantly enough, although his smile tightened a little.

               “You have a new guard,” Mei commented, leaning to the side a little to smile cheerily over Ling’s shoulder. She waved a little at the other guard accompanying Lan Fan that day.

               “He’s temporary,” Ling said shortly. Even now, he could feel Greed’s stare boring into the back of his head. Greed might have ended up refusing to be kicked out of the palace, but that didn’t mean Ling couldn’t willfully ignore him whenever he was around.

               Mei hummed her assent. “That’s fair; Lan Fan always does such a good job. I’m surprised you have another guard at all.”

               Lan Fan, who was standing a few paces to the side of the table, ducked her head a little. Ling knew she was smiling underneath her mask.

               “I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Ling agreed, voice warming.

               “I have some news,” Mei said casually, placing here teacup on the table. “About our clan’s relations.” She was smiling, but her look was careful. Shao-Mei rose to all fours and lumbered off somewhere into the gardens.

               Ling’s friendly expression did not fade. “Of course. How is everything? I hope the Yao are being welcoming?”

               “Yes, they have been. Please thank your clansmen for their hospitality for me. It’s definitely been a great experience; we’re learning so much about different trades unique to your clan.”

               “It’s nothing. I’m just happy you’re settling in well.”

               Presently, Shao-Mei returned and snorted a little in Mei’s ear, as if to relay something, before settling on her belly once again.

               “Shao-Mei says it’s safe,” Mei supplied, patting her companion’s head. “You sensed them, right?”

               “A little,” Ling answered honestly. Mei was, of course, referring to the Dragon’s Pulses that had flickered nearby. Whether they were friendly or malicious remained to be seen, but in a palace where knowledge was power, Ling was used to being trailed wherever he went. Sometimes, he didn’t even notice—such were the skills of those that were sent after him.

               Mei, however, was a bit of a prodigy in these areas. It was no wonder, then, that she excelled so in medical alchemy. If she and Shao-Mei declared it was safe for them to speak freely, Ling trusted them without a doubt.

               “The Chang have heard some things,” Mei’s tone turned serious. “I sent some spies along with the civilians that went to the Xing and Xia, like you asked.”

               Ling nodded.

               “Well, they’re not happy about it,” Mei frowned.

               “Not anything I didn’t expect.”

               “No, of course not. But they’re getting impatient, and they’re greedy. They think that you’re not going to listen to them.”

               “I’m not.”

               “Exactly,” Mei nodded. “The major clans think you’re defaming them, stripping away their rights and titles and power. They don’t want to assimilate or be equal, Ling. They like their dominance. Their wealth.”

               “I know.”

               “Well, maybe I can tell you something you don’t know.” Mei shifted in her seat. “Some Xia leaders have been meeting with lower clan leaders—not the Chang, obviously, since they know we’re so close, but the Cao, Xie, and Guo. I think the other major clan leaders are meeting some of the other smaller clans.”

               “The ones specializing in martial arts,” Ling said blandly. Mei inclined her head. The Cao, Xie, Guo, and some other smaller clans were known for their physical fighting ability. Of course, all of the Xingese clans were skilled combatants, but these clans prided themselves in their own special martial arts, passed down from generation to generation. They were poor, but proud in this respect.

               “They’re reaching out to some medical alchemy clans too,” said Mei, “although, like I said, they haven’t said a word to the Chang leaders.”

               “And?”

               “They’re talking about mutiny,” said Mei frankly. “A coup.”

               Ling suspected as much, and he was sorry to say that he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he thought that this would be an eventuality, although he hoped it wouldn’t come to this. It meant he wasn’t doing his job well.

               “Ling,” Mei said as if reading his mind, “it’s not your fault.”

               Ling only shrugged noncommittally. “So? Why are they speaking to the lower clans?” Strength wise, while the lower clans would certainly be a boon, they were wholly unnecessary if the major clans wanted to take over.

               “The more clans they have on their side, the more they can claim you don’t have the adequate support as an Emperor. And they can promise more than you are right now. They’re promising things like better trade, riches, education, stuff like that—basically, everything you are, but they don’t have to share with all the other clans.”

               Ling snorted. “How greedy.”

               Mei smiled a little. “You would know.”

               Ling grunted.

               “The Chang will back you, of course,” Mei said firmly. “But let’s be honest: we can’t offer much. We can rally some of our old allies as well—ones that we’ve had family in and such.”

               “Family?” Ling repeated curiously.

               “The smaller the clans are,” Mei shrugged, “the more likely it is that there’s marriage between other smaller clans. There’s not enough people to worry about pureblooded clan pride or anything like that.”

               “Hm,” Ling hummed. “But, you know, some major clan leaders’ children will marry each other to solidify their allegiance to each other?”

               Mei shrugged again. “The culture is just different depending on the size, I guess.”

               “So, what are they going to do?” Ling asked, leaning his head on his hand. “Hold a meeting? Lecture me? Demand I step down?”

               His tone was sarcastic, but Mei replied seriously, “Probably. The more legitimate they look, the better.”

               Ling snorted. If they cared about legitimacy, they wouldn’t have suggested a coup in the first place.

               “But I’m sure they’re not stupid enough to think that it’s going to work,” Mei continued. “You should watch your back.”

               “And you yours,” Ling advised. As a close and known ally to Ling and the Emperor, Mei would have as much target on her back as Ling.

               “I have Shao-Mei,” Mei said affectionately, patting the panda on the head. “I’m not worried.”

               “And I have Lan Fan.”

               “Your new guard hasn’t taken his eyes off you all afternoon, though,” Mei pointed out, soundly vaguely amused. “Maybe you should give him another chance; he seems pretty loyal, at least.”

               Ling wondered if he should tell Mei that the man standing behind him was Greed. Logically, there was really no reason not to tell her. She could reach out to Alfonse and Edward better than he could, what with him being watched and all, and could even ask for their opinions on Greed’s return to life.

               But an unknown part of him kept the secret to himself. Perhaps he simply did not want to admit that Greed existed, because if he did, he would also have to acknowledge that Greed had kissed him some nights before, and he did not much like thinking about that. It thoroughly confused Ling. When they were in the same body, he thought they were nothing more than friends—if that. Certainly, Greed made offhanded, flirtatious jokes at times, mostly at the expense of Ling’s body, but he did it often enough to others that Ling did not think much of it. And, without clearly knowing why Greed was here in the first place, Ling could not help but think that the kiss was just another way for Greed to wheedle his way into Ling’s head.

               “Ling?” Mei prompted him, pulling him from his thoughts. Ling mentally chastised himself. There were more important things to worry about than Greed’s strange behaviors. They were not the things that should’ve been plaguing Ling’s mind.

               “I’m sorry,” said Ling. “I was thinking.”

               “Of course,” Mei nodded. “I can leave, if you’d like.”

               “No,” Ling shook his head, “don’t. Please stay. I haven’t had a normal conversation in...” Ling thought back for a moment and laughed a little. “Well, it’s been some time since I’ve spoken with a friend.”

               The glare behind him turned absolutely withering.

               Mei made a sympathetic sound. “Makes you miss the old days, huh?”

               “Yes,” Ling sighed, “I think about them all the time. It was hard, obviously, but it was fun spending time with everyone. I think I wouldn’t mind everything as much if I had them all by my side.”

               “You know they’d come here the second you ask.”

               “That’s why I don’t ask them. They are not Xingese, and they are not my subjects. They’re not obligated to be here by any means.”

               “They’re your friends. You shouldn’t be ordering them, you’d be asking them. Besides, you helped them save _their_ country.”

               Ling shook his head. “Maybe. I don’t think it’ll help my popularity by bringing western alchemists to my side.”

               Mei sighed. “It’s hard, huh?”

               Ling only smiled.

               Later that night, when Ling was in his room, Lan Fan knocked and let herself in at his call.

               “He wants to speak to Your Majesty,” Lan Fan said from the door.

               “I’m not interested.”

               “He’s being very insistent.”

               “Of course he is,” Ling snorted. “He should be glad I haven’t banished him outright.”

               Lan Fan was silent.

               “Something’s on your mind, Lan Fan,” Ling sighed at last. “I can tell. Tell me.”

               “It is not my place, Your Majesty.”

               “Don’t make me order you,” Ling said, only half joking.

               Lan Fan hesitated only for a moment before saying hurriedly, “He seems genuinely willing to speak to you and explain himself. He has asked me to relay many messages to you in his stead.”

               “Has he?” Ling asked without much interest. “And why haven’t you told me these messages?”

               “I did not think you would want to hear them.”

               “You are correct,” Ling said, voice hardening just a little. “Lan Fan, I am grateful to you and your work. However, at present, Greed is only a distraction and complication that I do not have to time to deal with, right now.”

               “Frankly, Your Majesty,” said Lan Fan, “I believe that it would be better to have Greed on your side than not—particularly after what you spoke of with the princess this afternoon. Allies are few and far between.”

               “And you believe that I can trust him?”

               Lan Fan paused. “It would be a mistake to forget who he is or question how and why he is here, but I believe he is loyal to you without a doubt—no matter what he says. He has, after all, stayed this long despite your wishes as your guard, and I’m sure he’d protect you bravely.”

               “And what makes you say that?” Ling frowned, genuinely curious. Lan Fan’s opinion was important to him, and she was also exceedingly cautious. If she said he could depend on Greed, she undoubtedly had very good reasons.

               Lan Fan ducked her head, then. “It...is the way he looks at you.”

               “Looks at me,” Ling repeated incredulously.

               “No man that looks at another with such intensity and urgency would think of betraying him,” Lan Fan said. “My grandfather had the same look in his eye whenever it came to you.”

               The mention of Fu was unexpected. Ling blinked, mouth opening a little in shock. Never would he have thought to hear a comparison between the late Fu and Greed—especially from Lan Fan’s own mouth.

               “He would die for you,” Lan Fan insisted. “What more do you need from him?”

               What more, indeed? Ling propped his chin in his hand and frowned.

               “His behavior was still inexcusable.”

               “Agreed,” Lan Fan nodded. “But I do not think he meant it maliciously. He is just...”

               “Immature?” Ling supplied with a faint smile. “Idiotic? Brash?”

               Lan Fan only bowed. _You said it, not me_.

               “Very well,” Ling sighed. “I’ll speak to him—but not tonight. I’m tired. Tomorrow, maybe, when I have fewer appointments. Please tell him so.”

               “Yes, Your Majesty.”

               “Thank you, Lan Fan,” he said as she stepped out. “For everything.” He hoped that it was enough to convey how much he meant it.

               “Of course, Your Majesty,” Lan Fan bowed. “Good night.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day after valentine's day but in the end there's not a lot of ship stuff in today's chapter. 
> 
> it occurs to me that perhaps you might want to contact me on tumblr or something. most of my blogs are rp blogs but I have an insp blog you can talk to me at: @glvssanimals. 
> 
> thanks for your support, as always. I hope you enjoy.

                As it turned out, Ling would not have the opportunity to interact or even see Greed privately for some time.

                Ling had been intending to take care of some administrative duties before arranging he and Greed meet in the evening to really _discuss_ what had happened. Mind, Ling was not looking forward to it—not only was Greed a terrible conversationalist for serious matters, but he, himself, did not know how he felt about all of it. He was still certain he was very annoyed by the entire ordeal; Greed had no right to kiss him without permission, particularly when Ling had better things to worry about than his intentions.

                Still, it took Ling to when they were still sharing a body, when Greed admired the sharp planes of Ling’s muscles and crowed at how defined his back was.

                “Not bad,” he said then as Ling looked at himself in the mirror, watching himself smile with an uncharacteristic, savage smile. “Not bad at all, kid. Shame we didn’t meet in separate bodies; I’d have shown you a good time.”

                “Put some clothes on and shut the fuck up,” Ling snarled, stifling the blush that rose hot and unbidden up his neck. He would not be leered at and salivated over like some slab of meat.

                Greed seemed to be content to fool around in Ling’s body as he liked—despite Ling’s protests. Ling found himself surrounded by bodies and loud music in bars and exclusive clubs that he somehow wheedled his way into. He drank more alcohol than he knew he could handle, ate more food than he had before, and fell in bed with more men and women than he’d ever thought he would. It was shameful, as a crowned prince of a nation, to act so frivolously, with so little regard with others around him. It was something that his half-siblings would do: running rampant through the cities of Xing, leaving chaos behind them—and they were regarded with disdain within the country. Those siblings would never have been accepted as Emperor.

                “You need to relax,” Greed said to him all the time, arms slung around two strangers, the room reeking of sweat and smoke. His shirt was popped open, and his head was ringing from drink. “Learn to have some fun, little prince. Be good, and maybe we’ll poach that cute one over there.”

                It was shameful. While Ed and Alfonse were fighting Father and unraveling the conspiracies within Amestris, Ling and Greed were loafing around in Central’s seedy underbelly. If Ling hadn’t pushed him, he was quite confident Greed would never have tried to help the brothers at all. Ling was still impressed Greed even listened to him.

                “You’re like my conscience,” Greed shrugged in a casual, airy way Ling had never been able to achieve in his own shoulders. “Most of the time, I ignore you. Sometimes, I figure I should listen.”

                Basically, when Ling thought about it, it wasn’t very surprising that Greed kissed him in the way that he did. The man was impulsive, irresponsible, and rarely considered the consequences of his actions. Those were all Ling’s tasks when they shared a body. It was entirely possible that he meant absolutely nothing by it.

                But judging from his behavior, it meant more than nothing.

                But if he did or not was beside the point. Ling had little time for romantics, particularly with a prickly, hedonistic individual such as Greed. And Ling wasn’t even sure he wanted to get started with the implications of being with someone that looked just like him.

                _But_ , of course, Ling would not be able to share any of these thoughts with Greed with some time, because that morning, Lan Fan knocked on his door and, when he invited her in, told him there were multiple clan leaders requesting his audience. Her expression did not bode well.

                So, there he now sat, crown perched on his head and pressed robes crisp and clean, as no less than twelve clan leaders and accompanying wives, noblemen, and advisors knelt and pressed their foreheads to the floor. Quickly, Ling identified who he could. The Xing, Xia, Zhou, and Qin leaders were unmistakable. After a few moments, Ling also recognized a few from the middling clans. The last few, in the back, he recognized but could not immediately name. He could only assume they were from the smaller clans.

                He cursed himself as the audience rose, already guessing for what they had come for. Mei had warned him just yesterday that this might happen—he just did not think it would happen so soon. That was hardly an excuse, however; he should’ve been planning for this as soon as he left the gardens that afternoon. He should’ve called a meeting himself rather than allowing these leaders to do it themselves. He should’ve been looking for allies before they got ahead of him. Now, he was a step behind.

                “Your Radiance,” said the Xia leader—Rong—as he approached the throne. Immediately, Lan Fan and Greed stepped forward to block his path. Ling took momentary comfort at the sight of their backs to him—even Greed. Ling was surprised he even agreed to be here. The man always kept him guessing, to be sure.

                “Hold,” Ling bade them, and they allowed Rong closer to the foot of the steps. There, Rong bowed once more at the waist.

                “Speak.”

                “Yes, Your Radiance,” Rong said, straightening but keeping his gaze respectfully at Ling’s feet. “Your Radiance, I have come before you with leaders from other clans—the Xing, the Xia, the Zhou, the Qin, the Qing, the Li, the Zhang, the Zhao, the Xu, the Cao, the Guo, and the Jiang—as well as their advisors and close relations.”

                Ling swept his gaze around the room for the sake of acknowledging them. He already knew who was present.

                “We have come before you to express some concerns for the nation of Xing.”

                Rong paused, as if expecting something from Ling. When he said nothing, Rong continued, “Your Majesty’s new policies have encouraged immigration from one nation to another—specifically, from the smaller clans to the larger, so that the clans may assimilate and learn from each other.”

                Another pause. Patiently, Ling said, “I am aware of my policies, leader Xia.”

                “Of course,” Rong ducked his head. “Then, perhaps Your Radiance is also aware of the relative confusion it is causing within clan borders. While great, many of our clans are unable to accommodate all these new citizens into our ranks. As well, our schools and government buildings have already been filled and have proceeded well into this year’s processes. There is little place, I’m afraid, for new immigrants.”

                “I believe I asked clans to leave space for the new immigrants in anticipation of this overcapacity.”

                “Indeed, Your Majesty, but rarely do things go as planned; so many of our people volunteered and insisted in joining our work and educational services that, in the end, all our spots were filled. Yet, we were remiss to deny dutiful citizens from their passions.”

                “Then, what would you ask of me?”

                “If Your Radiance would, we leaders—smaller and larger clans together—would ask that you postpone your policies for now. The patterns of immigration continue, but our homes are simply overflowing already.”

                “Most of these immigrants are students seeking education at higher institutions,” said Ling, “and volunteers, besides. I ordered some students from larger clans to in turn observe cultures in smaller ones, and made sure the proportions were appropriate for the populations. Perhaps, indeed, the clans are full, but they should not be overflowing—if, that is, my orders were adhered to.”

                Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Greed’s shoulders give the slightest of spasms. A laugh, perhaps.

                “Of course, of course,” Rong murmured. Ling had to hand it to him—not a speck of concern shadowed his face. “However, Your Majesty, if I may: it cannot be denied that these sudden changes have left some of our clans in confusion and distress. We still humbly ask you pause your policies so we have time to adjust—perhaps even send clansmen back to their own clans to alleviate some of the pressures within.”

                “The clans have existed for generations,” said Ling. “You will understand why I doubt some internal pressures will collapse the system as we know it.”

                “But, Exalted One, it is collapsing that is happening,” said Rong. “These policies are foreign and strange—indeed, we Xingese wonder who or what their purposes serve. As Your Radiance has said, the clans have exited for centuries. Is there need to change the system now, especially when it causes such upheaval between clans? Surely, you have heard of the conflicts that have cropped up at borders and between previously peaceful clans over complications of immigration and residence.”

                “I have—from one of many hawks sent by you and other leaders. I sent back my advice and trusted you competent enough to resolve the issues peacefully.”

                “But they have not been resolved, Exalted One—not really. Yes, the fights have disappeared, but a simmering distrust still resides in our lands. We worry that, before long, civil war may erupt between clans. Surely, Your Radiance would not want this to happen?”

                “Of course not,” said Ling. “I have seen firsthand how devastating civil war can be for a nation. That is why I am attempting to unify the clans and smoothen the process as much as is in my power.”

                “Ah, yes, Your Radiance’s experiences in Amestris,” Rong said knowingly, and Ling had the sudden, sickening feeling he had said something wrong.

                “Your Majesty,” said Rong, “while many speak of your time in Amestris, little is known of what truly went on there.”

                “I have given my story to the previous Emperor and to you, the clan leaders,” Ling replied warily.

                “Indeed, but how fantastical it sounds! Your Radiance will forgive us if we have trouble believing such tales of homunculi and strange alchemy across the great desert.”

                “The trouble can be forgiven, but not the disbelief; I did not lie to you.”

                “If this is true, which surely it must, if it is from the Exalted One’s own mouth, then perhaps Your Radiance’s time in Amestris affected how he sees government and culture. Amestris has a different sort of nation than the Xing, of course. Perhaps Your Majesty’s time there has convinced him that their system is superior to ours.”

                “Amestris’ government is militaristic in nature,” Ling frowned. “I am not proposing as such.”

                “But this idea of equality of clans and members of the nation is unmistakably Western, Your Radiance,” Rong insisted. “However, it is clear to us in the clans that it is inappropriate for us. It disregards centuries of culture and legacy.”

                “I am not suggesting we upend the entire system,” said Ling, “but change it gradually. This is why I am encouraging clans to become more familiar with each other. This is simply the first step of many.”

                “The first?” Rong feigned mild shock. “Ah, but Your Majesty, the first step has already created such strife and tension within the nation. Is it so necessary to continue these policies? It is not so shameful to admit some things do not work. In fact, it is a symbol of a wise, intelligent leader. We leaders must implore Your Radiance to not become so blinded by ambition that the nation suffers in exchange.”

                Ling rose from his seat, causing the entire room to collapse on their knees—all but Rong, who he was addressing, and his guards, who stood dutifully at the foot of the steps.

                “Careful, leader Xia,” Ling spoke quietly, although his voice carried easily throughout the hall. “You step on dangerous ground.”

                Rong bent at the waist. “I did not mean any disrespect, Your Radiance.”

                _Of course you did._ “Of course you did not. However, I have said already my thoughts and opinions on the matter. I sympathize with your struggles and will think on the matter thoroughly. These are questions that will change the face of the nation significantly, and I must take more time to consider these changes in private.”

                “Of course, Your Radiance,” Rong said, still bowed. “We leaders trust you will come to the correct decision.”

                _Hn_. “Very well. If that is all, you are dismissed.”

                The room rose to their feet, although they remained bowed at the waist. Without another word, they walked backwards out the grand doors, never once straightening their backs or looking up to face Ling.

                When the last of them left, Ling collapsed back in his throne, pressed his face in his hands, and groaned.

                “They got me,” Ling muttered into his hands.

                “Your Majesty?” Lan Fan said.

                “Nothing,” Ling put his hands down and sighed. “Just talking to myself. You two may retire for the day. I would like to be by myself for some time.”

                Lan Fan bowed immediately and disappeared. Greed hesitated for a moment, standing stiff, with his hands at his side, staring at Ling from behind his mask. Ling looked back, not saying a word.

                Presently, Lan Fan returned and plucked Greed’s sleeve. With a soft click of the tongue, Greed turned to follow her out. She bumped the small of his back, however, and he spun around, gave a quick, messy bow, before Lan Fan was satisfied and dragged them both out of the throne room.

                When he was alone at last, Ling took the crown off his head and put it in his lap, staring at the colorful beads adorning the black fabric. Fifty beads for the fifty clans, evenly distributed in artful fashion to ring his head.

                Ling felt his mouth twist in a bitter frown. He knew the path would be hard, but he had not anticipated how hard. He had been expecting resistance, threats of war, and many assassination attempts, but he had not expected the political audiences, the careful words, and the many ears from the shadows. He had learned as quickly as he could, but he did not learn fast enough, and it showed: he was trapped at the whims of the strongest clans.

                Accept the terms, and he would quickly become the pawn of the most influential clans. After this admission, they would ask for still more and more favors. This, Ling knew for certain. Eventually, it would come to the point where his power would be only symbolic; he would be a figurehead. And he would be considered a weak and incompetent leader, besides, allowing these rich clans to run rampant and lead as they wished for the duration of his rule—and perhaps for all rulers following him.

                Deny them, however, and Ling could be sure they would declare war on him. Oh, they would have their reasons, he was sure: it would be for the good of Xing, that the Emperor had become corrupt or incompetent, taking bribes from the West or otherwise being thoroughly un-Xingese. They would become the champions of the nation if they won, and would mold the nation how they saw fit for the rest of its days.

                Unless, of course, Ling somehow won the war of words and swords both.

                He sighed again and rubbed his face. He was not cut out for this. He was made for combat, where actions spoke instead of words and there were no hidden meanings. When was the last time he held a sword in his own two hands? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps it had been when he was in Amestris last: a whole two years ago.

                The fine silks of his robes suddenly felt stifling. Abruptly, Ling rose from his throne and retired to his rooms. He was silently relieved to find that neither Lan Fan nor Greed were there to meet him. He could only assume Lan Fan—ever dutiful—was watching from somewhere close but out of sight. He was lucky to have her.

                The room was recently cleaned by the servants, but Ling knew Greed left it in a sorry sight when he left that morning. The covers of the bed had probably been thrown off, some of the pillows scattered across the floor, fruit cores and seeds strewn randomly across the desks and tables, and the letters from the Xingese people left in random piles in the room. For Greed, Ling was sure, the organization of the letters made perfect sense. For Ling, they were only confusing. It seemed Greed understood their contents far better than he did, for some letters were, when he bothered to look, grouped together in seemingly random fashion.

                Now, however, they were piled back together in a neat stack. After Ling changed into his casual wear, he picked up the first letter and looked at the seal. Xia. With disgust, he flicked it back into the pile. He was no longer in the mood for administrative duties.

                Ling flexed his fingers, feeling the ghost of his sword brushing somewhere along the palms of his hands. Seized with an abrupt decisiveness, Ling left his room and made his way to the training grounds.

                Typically, the grounds were only for soldiers and guards, squirreled away in the back of the palace where they could grunt and fight and swing their swords and throw their knives without worrying about interference. While Ling felt like the day had been long and never ending, it had really just started; the noon sun sat fat and high in the sky, shining on tanned shoulders and sweating foreheads. When Ling arrived, he took in the familiar sight of a dirt ring, the sounds of combat, and the smell of perspiration.

                For a while, no one noticed Ling’s presence—and there was no reason for them to. Not only was it uncommon for the Emperor to train (in a public place, no less), Ling was not dressed in any formal attire. While the material was expensive, to be sure, his casual wear blended in to the background at first glance. He was, for a moment, nondescript and insignificant. Ling relished the feeling for as long as he could. It was the reason he came down in the first place. He could’ve always, after all, ordered someone to bring up a sword for him and practice in one of his many private rooms throughout the palace, but it sounded lonely, cold, and plastic. Here, among other soldiers, he felt more at peace.

                It did not, of course, last long. A pair of soldiers nearby finished their sparring exercises and stepped away from each other. One of them glanced Ling’s way, hissed something in his fellow’s ear, and practically tripped over himself collapsing onto the ground. His partner followed soon after.

                It took a while for everyone else to catch on, but slowly all the soldiers realized that their king was in their midst. In a flurry of metal clanging and great thumps of weights being dropped, the entire courtyard fell to their knees. Surely, it was uncomfortable. Not only was it hot, but these men were pressing their faces into the sand, foreheads sweating and chests heaving.

                “Rise,” said Ling, lifting a hand. The courtyard scrambled to comply. He felt a shade of sympathy for these men. Soldiers rarely, if ever, saw the Emperor in person—an odd notion, given that they were expected to fight for him to death, if necessary. Still, it was usually the nobles, the politicians, and the highest of generals that saw the Emperor in the flesh.

                “Your Majesty!” shouted someone from the back, and presently, a shirtless, well-toned middle-aged man with a sharp nose and sharper chin rushed forward. He saluted when he arrived, started at his oversight, and hurriedly made to bow again when Ling said, “That’s not necessary.”

                “Your Majesty,” he said, still somewhat out of breath. “If you say so—I mean, if that is the Emperor’s will. I’m the highest ranked officer here. What do you need—uh, I mean: how may I serve His Radiance?”

                Ling smiled a little. “What’s your name?”

                “Jun Jie, sir—Your Majesty.”

                “Jun Jie,” said Ling, “there is no need to look so alarmed. I am simply here to train.”

                “To...train?” Jun Jie repeated as if he did not understand.

                “Yes. You are aware I had some skill with the sword before I was Emperor?”

                “Yes, of course, Your Majesty! Everyone has heard the tales. Why, just last night, me and some of the men were saying over drinks that we’ve heard stories of you showing those Westerners some good old Xingese—”

                Someone kicked Jun Jie in the knee, and he clammed up abruptly.

                “Um, I mean—excuse me, Your Majesty. I forgot myself. Yes, I’m aware.”

                “I would like to keep my skills up. I see no need to become lazy while I am Emperor.”

                “Of course, of course,” nodded Jun Jie. Ling’s head hurt just watching how fast his bobbed up and down. “But, uh, Your Radiance, all of our training areas are...well...they’re...”

                Jun Jie trailed off, looking mildly uncomfortable.

                “Full?” Ling suggested. “This is understandable. Perhaps I will come back some other time.”

                “No, not full,” said Jun Jie, frowning, “just public. The policy of the military is to train as one unit. I’m afraid Your Majesty won’t have privacy while he’s training. I’m sure the last thing you want are peasant soldiers getting in your way.”

                “On the contrary,” said Ling, “I would be honored to have any of your men spar with me—for practice, you understand.”

                Jun Jie’s face blanched a little, and Ling knew he had made a mistake.

                “O-Oh, yes, of course! Well, as the highest officer here, I suppose _I_...Well, I’m not sure I’m at the level of skill Your Majesty is expecting. I’m certain Your Majesty would feel better if—”

                “I jest,” Ling held up a hand, smiling a little. He should’ve known better; no one in their right mind would accept being Ling’s sparring partner and go all out against him—unless it was Lan Fan, although she was often preoccupied with organizing Ling’s security detail.

                “I am comfortable training alone,” Ling continued. “I only require a sword. I will keep to myself. Your training exercises will not be interrupted.”

                “Oh,” Jun Jie sighed, looking so visibly relieved it was comical. “Well, if Your Majesty insists, that’s easy to arrange. We have lots of swords lying around for practice. I can go show them to you, if you’d like. I-I mean—I’ll bring them here, to Your Majesty! There’s no need for you to—”

                “Lead the way.”

                Jun Jie jumped a little but, thankfully, said no more. He hurriedly led Ling to the modest armory in the back of the courtyard filled with weaponry almost exclusively for training. Deftly, Ling inspected some of the swords and felt some of their weights in his hands. Already, his old calluses that had almost completely faded tingled in anticipation.

                “This one will do,” said Ling, swinging his chosen sword. It was not as heavy as he was used to, and had dulled with age, but he was only training, and this was closer to a weapon than he’d gotten in some time.

                “Yes, Your Majesty!” said Jun Jie. “A fine choice, Your Majesty! Then, over here, I can clear some space for you to train in...”

                That is how Ling found himself in a quiet corner in the otherwise crowded, bustling courtyard filled with soldiers. Those nearest to him glanced over their shoulders uncomfortably, as if they expected him to bark out orders or demand they start serving him for something or other. Over time, however, when they found Ling dutifully practicing his fighting forms and sparring with phantom enemies, they learned to ignore him.

                And Ling thus allowed himself to be lost in the cloud of shouts, laughter, and the crashing of skin on skin and metal on metal. In his mind’s eye, his blade was sharp, polished, and deadly. Behind him, back to back, was Lan Fan, as they fought back at a circle of enemies.

                And, in the distance, Ling was certain he could hear Greed’s ghastly, wolfish laugh as he took down an entire army on his own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they don't bang but their dicks touch in this chapter so that's almost the same right
> 
> tumblr: glvssanimals

 

                “Your Majesty,” Lan Fan announced her presence a few nights later. He had just finished his shower after indulging in training for the fifth time that week. It had become part of his routine, as far as he was concerned; it was a period of meditation and methodology that he hadn’t realized he had been missing. It cleared his head, and made the pile of letters on his desk seem somewhat more tolerable. The threat of the other clans had not faded, but at the very least, they had not called another audience. They seemed content to allow Ling to stew over their arguments for a while yet—or perhaps they assumed Ling would deny them, and were preparing to take up arms. Either way, it had been relatively quiet lately, the classic calm before impending storm.

                “Come in,” he called her. She entered, bowed, and murmured her good evenings.

                “What is it?” he prompted her.

                “I have a few things to go over with you,” said Lan Fan, and Ling could tell she was speaking to him as the captain of his personal guard, not his comrade.

                “Of course,” Ling replied, setting the letter down and giving her his full attention.

                “Firstly, on the matter of your training these days”—and Ling smiled a little, because he knew Lan Fan had been watching, even if he had not seen her all these past few days—“I understand Your Majesty’s wish to keep his skills honed, but perhaps a place that is more private, where I can watch you more easily, would be more appropriate. And if you need someone to practice with, I would be more than happy to—”

                “Lan Fan,” Ling interrupted her, although not unkindly, “I appreciate what you’re saying, but I would feel most at home training with everyone else. I cannot imagine training in a single room on my own—and you already have enough responsibilities. I would not ask you to spar with me on top of them.”

                “Another one of the guard, then,” Lan Fan pressed.

                “There are no others that would commit to fighting me. You know this.”

                “I know of at least one other.”

                “He hardly counts,” Ling scoffed. “The only combat he can do is with his carbon abilities. Hardly appropriate for training, even in private—wouldn’t you agree?”

                Lan Fan was silent for a moment before ducking her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

                “If you insist I practice in private,” Ling continued, “I’ll take your advice. You know I will.”

                “No, Your Majesty. If it is what Your Majesty prefers, then it’s alright. There is no imminent danger. However, this leads me to the second matter: the audience from a few days ago.”

                “Indeed?”

                “I’m concerned for Your Majesty’s safety—Your Majesty’s life, frankly. I have received some alarming reports.”

                As had Ling. Mei and her close correspondents had passed on whispers of assassination plans and takeovers on the horizon. Thankfully, nothing had happened to Ling yet, but it hadn’t stopped him from looking over his shoulder in empty hallways or giving everything he ate or drank a critical sniff.  

                “Certainly. I understand.”

                “As such, I would like to insist you have two guards with you at all times wherever you go.”

                Ling blinked. “In addition to the ones you have following me, you mean.”

                Lan Fan did not miss a beat. “Yes, in addition to those. Two publicly at your side and at your room when appropriate. One at the door and one inside by the window.”

                “Inside?” Ling frowned. “I do not mind the guard outside the door, but I wonder if the one inside is necessary.”

                “Unfortunately, Your Majesty, I must insist,” Lan Fan said without sounding very regretful. “It can be someone familiar, if you’d like—me or him, perhaps.”

                Ling tilted his head thoughtfully. “If it is one of you two, then I suppose I wouldn’t mind.”

                Lan Fan bowed. “Apologies, again, for this inconvenience, Your Majesty.”

                “You don’t have to apologize,” Ling smiled. She only had his best interests at heart. Not all rulers were so lucky with such a diligent guard. “Is that all?”

                “No, I have a third matter: the servants are talking about our friend that is staying in your bedroom, and how you are sleeping in a room that is not your own.”

                “Well,” Ling sniffed a little, “it _is_ my room.”

                “Not your _usual_ room,” Lan Fan amended. “I believe we should relocate our friend to another place, or consider creating some sort of explanation for his presence.’

                Ling frowned. “I understand what you’re saying, but you know it’s a hard task; even if we convince him to move to another room and act more as a subject, the fact remains of his looks.”

                “If I may, Your Majesty, I have a suggestion.”

                “Please.”

                “I, as the captain of your guard, have relative privacy, and it’s not uncommon for me to wear a mask at almost all times. I have my own private quarters near your room, as well. Perhaps appointing our friend with a similar title would be beneficial. My lieutenant, perhaps.”

                “And you think the other guards would be satisfied with this?”

                “They are loyal to you,” Lan Fan said. “I have made certain of this. They will not question it—especially if they learn you and I both agreed on it.”

                Ling hummed. “Very well. Make it so, Lan Fan. You have my permission.”

                “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will appoint the guards to your room immediately. I can send him in to guard your window now, if you’d like.”

                “I’d prefer if you stay here for the night, Lan Fan,” Ling sighed a little. “I’m tired, and he’s certain to ask me questions that I’m not prepared to deal with for now.”

                “Then I will stay here, Your Majesty,” said Lan Fan. “I will send him in for a moment while I relay my orders.”

                “Oh—” Ling began, about to protest that he would not like to see Greed at all, but Lan Fan either didn’t hear him or willfully ignored him. She stepped out of the room, and moments later, Greed stumbled in, as if pushed.

                With finality, the door was shut behind him. Greed muttered to himself plucking at his guard’s clothes and raising a hand to rake through his hair but running into the top of his mask instead. Impatiently, he tore it off and threw it in some random direction. All the while, Ling sat in his seat, muscles stiff and unresponsive.

                After a moment, Greed grunted, “Hey.”

                “Hello.”

                They were quiet for a moment, Ling staring at Greed and Greed putting his hands on his hips and glaring at his shoes.

                “So,” Greed began again, looking up but still glaring, “that meeting from a while ago, huh?”

                “Yeah,” Ling said, blinking. He wasn’t sure if Greed was just mad or severely uncomfortable.

                The conversation fizzled again. 

                “Look, kid—”

                The knock on the door was like a thunderbolt. The pair of them jumped at its sound.

                “Your Majesty?”

                “Come in.”

                Lan Fan poked her head in and bowed. “I apologize for interrupting. I came to report that I had finished relaying the orders to the guard. They have been familiarized with the schedule.”

                “Good,” said Ling. “Tell it to me.”

                “I will tell it to you later, Your Majesty, if it’s all the same to you. I can see you were in the middle of something.”

                “We really weren’t,” Ling said. Greed snorted.

                “Greed, if you’re going to stay here for some time, then please take over the Emperor’s inner security detail, please,” Lan Fan said with a flat expression.

                “Wait a second—” Greed started.

                “Good night Greed, Your Majesty,” Lan Fan nodded with not so much as a blink before retiring and shutting the door behind her.

                After a moment, Ling put a hand on his forehead and chuckled. “Ah, she’s so forceful, sometimes.” Greed only grunted and crossed his arms.

                “Okay, look, kid,” Greed sneered, “I’m done prancing around this shit, got it? It’s not my style.”

                Ling opened his mouth to say something, but Greed steamrolled on.

                “I guess it’s my bad that I thought you weren’t a fucking idiot, because I’ve been saying I’ve been into you since day one. You know how many times I thought about you when we were fucking around with those kids in Amestris?”

                Ling certainly did _not_ know about that; Greed always seemed very preoccupied whenever he was bedding someone, and Ling did not make it a point to sit in during his conquests. Ling typically shut out Greed from his mind as much as he could and committed himself to meditating.

                “Ah,” Greed snorted, eyeing Ling as blush flooded his neck and cheeks, “guess not. Well, anyways”— _Don’t say something like that so casually and continue on so dismissively!_ —“I thought you were playing dumb or some shit when I was hanging all over you half naked, but apparently you’re just fucking oblivious.” He took a step forward and jabbed a finger in Ling’s direction. “So, I’m saying it to you outright: I want to fuck you—hard, fast, slow, careful, in the bed, on a desk, wherever the fuck.” He advanced another step so his finger now grazed Ling’s chest. “I want to watch you tell those shit clan leaders where to stick it then drag you to bed and hear their Emperor beg for me.” Without warning, Greed seized Ling’s tunic and dragged them together in a suffocating grip. He grinned that familiar, savage grin, pressed their bodies together, and murmured to Ling in a low, rumbling voice, “I’m _Greed_ , baby. I _always_ get what I want.”

                He laughed when Ling audibly swallowed and heat began to pool somewhere deep in his belly. It was a dark, conniving laugh—the type that made the spine shiver. Greed leaned even closer so their breaths were mingling together and Ling swore he felt another pair of lips ghost against his own—or perhaps it was simply wishful thinking.

                “What do you say, _Your Majesty_?” Greed drawled, the hands in Ling’s shirt giving one short, forceful yank. Ling shuddered, hyper aware of the sharpness of Greed’s knuckles through the cloth of his top and the rising bulge pressing against Ling’s own. “Want me to put my _money_ where my _mouth_ is?”

                Ling swallowed again, feeling his willpower quickly abandon him. Still, his rational side insisted he speak up: _Why are you here? Why after all this time? Is this just another way you want to take the crown from me? Is it just sex you want from me? What else are you here to take? You’re_ Greed _—what else do you want from me?_

But instead of saying any of these things, Ling parted his lips—minutely, to be sure, but enough that a spark of triumph flared in Greed’s red eyes. He gave another chuckle—this one almost childishly gleeful—as he at last closed the tiny gap between them and kissed Ling for the second time.

                Unlike the first time, however, Greed waited for no concessions; he was forceful and insistent, as if determined to keep Ling caught in his grip this time. And, indeed, he continued to tighten his hold on Ling’s shirtfront while Ling’s own arms hung limply at his sides.

                Even through the kiss, Ling could feel Greed’s smirk. Greed easily eked Ling’s mouth open with almost no resistance from the latter. He nipped Ling’s bottom lip before taking over his mouth with tongue. Ling grunted in surprise as Greed pushed with such fervor that Ling bent backwards. With mild frustration, Ling seized Greed’s shoulders and wrestled back some semblance of control, returning the kiss with equal measure and pulling himself back up. Greed let out a _heh_ from the back of his throat.

                A sudden ripping noise pulled Ling away from Greed with a _pop!_ His lips felt full and abused, his cheeks were on fire, and sweat was beginning to line his forehead. He looked down at his own bare, heaving chest and gray, metallic fingers impatiently shucking away the poor remains of Ling’s shirt before returning to normal and running across Ling’s skin.

                “That was expensive,” Ling found himself saying reproachfully.

                “Fuck off,” Greed laughed semi-breathlessly, hooking fingers at the knot holding his pants up while using the other hand to tug at Ling’s ponytail to expose his neck. “You can buy another one, Your Highness,” he added humorously as he ran his teeth along a tendon.

                “It’s not funny,” Ling frowned as best he could as he felt the hem of his pants loosen. Absentmindedly, he toyed with the bottom of Greed’s shirt. Why was Ling exposed while Greed was not? “The servants will talk.”

                “They sure will,” Greed said, voice full of promise. No sooner did the words leave his mouth when Ling’s pants fell to his ankles and Greed lifted him up, swinging Ling’s thighs around his waist and leaving Ling to yelp in a very undignified manner and grip Greed’s shoulders for dear life.

                The position gave Greed prime access to Ling’s neck, which he took full advantage of while he brought the pair of them to the bed. Ling distantly recognized that they would leave marks tomorrow that even the highest collars of his robes wouldn't be able to cover. Knowing Greed, he was perfectly aware of this. Ling’s suspicions were only further confirmed when Greed gave a particularly hard suck to a spot underneath Ling’s jaw.

                Unceremoniously, Greed dumped Ling into the bed. In Ling’s scramble to reorient himself, Greed somehow pulled off his undergarments, exposing him completely. He was already erect—much to his embarrassment. There was something almost humiliating about giving Greed the pleasure of knowing how much he affected Ling. Greed put his hands on his hips and admired Ling for a moment before catching his eyes, grinning, and very slowly and deliberately licking his lips and biting his tongue between his incisors. Ling’s dick gave an excited, traitorous twitch.

                With what little dignity Ling had left, he propped himself on an elbow and took Greed’s shirt in his other hand with a frown. “Why am I the only one naked, here?”

                “Didn’t know you were so excited to see me naked, baby,” Greed smiled, but he did not need to be told twice; he zealously stripped himself and joined Ling on the bed, happily smirking at Ling’s half-snarl.

                Unbidden, Ling found his eyes roaming across Greed’s body—his own body, really, which set him off somewhat. Granted, it was not a perfect copy of Ling’s; while Ling had been attending meetings and the like for the past two years, Greed had been traversing the world. His muscles were tighter than Ling’s and more defined, his body somewhat more sinewy and planed. Still, it could not be denied that the body was Ling’s own, and suddenly Ling found himself considering the implications of whatever they were going to do.

                “Hey, Your Majesty,” Greed called him back. Ling met his eyes and found the mischievous glint gone, replaced with a strange seriousness. Greed leaned forward until he was hovering on top of Ling and he could feel the heat coming from his chest. Still, he did not look away from Ling’s eyes.

                “Don’t overthink it,” Greed said to him quietly. “It’s just you and me.” He closed the distance and ran his nose along Ling’s jaw. “I’ll show you a good time, kid—trust me.”

                Ling swallowed, but was suddenly at a loss for words. He only nodded and shut his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Greed pressing their chests together and cupping Ling’s cheek in his hand.

                They began kissing again—more innocently this time, although that did not last long. Greed quickly began ravaging Ling’s mouth and shamelessly grinding down onto him. He was mercilessly pinning Ling to the sheets, leaving him to simply squirm under Greed and claw at his shoulders, his neck, his back—whatever he could find purchase on to stabilize himself. Never before had he been suffocated so thoroughly by singular passion for his person. Ling could feel himself becoming intoxicated just by Greed’s presence.

                Seized abruptly with want, Ling bucked upwards and rolled them into reverse positions so Greed was underneath him, now. Greed grunted in surprise, but did not complain. Instead, he used one hand to pull Ling’s hair out of his ponytail and the other to grab a handful of ass. Ling gasped a little into Greed’s mouth as he was insistently pressed down into Greed’s erection.

                “You like that?” Greed said, perhaps trying to exude bravado but instead sounding breathless. Ling glanced up to find one of Greed’s eyes split open and mouth sporting a toothy grin.

                “Shut up,” Ling said exasperatedly, and before Greed could say something smart, kissed him again and grinded down.

                Greed hummed as Ling’s hair fell over his shoulders and onto Greed’s cheeks. He took his hand and slipped it between their bodies, found their dicks, and gripped both in one of his hands. Ling grunted in surprise, but Greed bit down on his lip and kept him in place and he began jerking them off.

                Greed’s tongue was hot and wet in Ling’s mouth as it ran along his teeth and wrestled with Ling’s own. His hand was rough and callused around one half of Ling and warm and hard against the other. Ling let out a soft _ah!_ as Greed bit a little harder—enough for Ling to taste blood—and mitigated the pain by increasing the pace of his hand.

                “Don’t suppose you have lotion or something, do you, Your Majesty?” Greed finally breathed into Ling’s ear.

                “Bathroom,” Ling muttered, pressing his forehead into Greed’s shoulder. Greed snarled impatiently. The bathroom was a few halls away—another full room in its own right, really, outfitted with a bathtub that was more akin to a small pool and oils and soaps imported from all over the country and then some. In short, an appropriate place for a king, but at the moment, a frustrating distance away.

                “Guess I’ll bang you another time,” Greed said with mild disappointment. He gave their dicks another lazy tug, and Ling spasmed a little. Greed ran his fingers through Ling’s hair.

                “I’ve been thinking about this forever,” Greed confided in Ling, who groaned a little as Greed picked up the pace again. His lips were soft and hot against Ling’s ear. Quickly, so fast that Ling wondered if he imagined it, a tongue flickered out and licked the inside shell.

                “You’re so hot, baby,” Greed crooned, pace relentless. “Watching you command those clansmen turns me on, you don’t even know. Such a good Emperor, making them all scared—what if they knew about you here, like this?” Greed laughed a little as Ling squirmed. “Don’t worry, baby—I’m going to keep all this to myself. All of _you_ to myself.”

                _How typical_ , Ling found himself thinking, and he laughed into Greed’s neck.

                Apparently, this displeased Greed. He abruptly tangled his hand in Ling’s hair and yanked his head so they could start kissing again. All the while, he jacked them off at a brutal pace—enough to make Ling whine as Greed pressed his tongue forward.

                “All those random ass kids in Amestris,” Greed muttered into Ling’s mouth as Ling could feel himself peaking, “didn’t mean shit. Wish you stuck around for all those times. Thought of you every time. Liked imagining it was you underneath me, squirming, crying, begging for me to fuck you deeper. You were so good in my head, Ling. I bet you’ll be even better in real life. You’ll be better for me, won’t you, Your Majesty?”

                Ling could only gasp and nod furiously, fingers digging into Greed’s shoulders and spine contracting.

                “ _Good_ ,” Greed said satisfied finality. “What a good little emperor.” Greed sank his teeth at the junction where Ling’s neck met his shoulder. “Come on, baby—show me how good you are.”

                With a cry that could only be called a mewl, Ling felt himself come. Warm, white streaks were pulled from him by the encouraging twists of Greed’s hand. Greed followed soon after, his body jerking underneath Ling’s as he collapsed atop him, spent.

                They lied there for a moment, catching their breaths, Greed carding his fingers through Ling’s hair. Ling was sweaty and sticky, but Greed didn’t seem to mind. He gave Ling a possessive kiss on his neck again, then kissed his temple more sentimentally.

                “Get something to clean us up, kid,” he rumbled. Ling groaned but obliged; he rose gingerly, feeling gooey come on his stomach, and mournfully picked up the scraps of his shirt from the floor. It was a nice shirt. He supposed he could ask the royal tailor to make a replica, but it would not be the same.

                Ling returned to the bed, rubbing his stomach, before throwing the shirt at Greed. He lazily wiped himself off and threw the shirt in some random direction—“We should throw it out, at least!”—before settling on one side of the bed and impatiently beckoning to Ling.

                “Don’t look so comfortable in my bed,” Ling frowned, brow furrowing.

                “It’s _my_ bed, now,” Greed grinned. “But there’s room for two, and I’m willing to share.”

                “For once,” Ling replied blandly, but crawled into the empty space next to Greed regardless. He slipped under the sheets as Greed let his hair down and joined him. He wasted no time in making himself comfortable and admiringly running his hand across Ling’s chest.

                “Not bad,” Greed smiled faintly, red eyes glittering. “Not bad at all.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ling gets an ouchie. 
> 
> also, attempted suicide mention. 
> 
> glvssanimals.tumblr.com

                Ling woke to the sharp hiss of metal on rock.

                No, that was wrong. Ling’s eyes flew open, and in that second where his vision focused and grogginess was shaken from his mind, he took in a few things: firstly, Greed was leaning over him, his bare shoulder blocking half of Ling’s view, one arm coated in carbon. Secondly, there was a stranger in the room, covered in black and wearing a mask. Thirdly, there was an uncomfortable prickling at a small point in the middle of Ling’s neck. Instinct told him not to move, not to bother looking down at what it was because somewhere he already knew it was a knife—a knife that Greed had caught in midair and holding. The sound he awoke to was Greed seizing this knife.

                For a moment, the room hung in tense silence: the would-be assassin apparently stunned as his blade was stopped by someone’s apparent bare hand, Greed gritting his teeth and arm trembling as he held the blade at bay, and Ling, who lay still as a stone, not daring to move or twitch, lest the knife slice open his Adam’s apple.

                “What the fuck are you?” Greed finally snarled, leaning forward a bit more and pushing back on the knife. He shielded Ling from view as much as possible, equal parts protective as much as possessive.

                The intruder didn’t respond, but Ling could see his eyes flickering back and forth between them from underneath his mask. He could practically see the cogs working in his mind: the Emperor was not alone as was likely reported, there was, in fact, another man in bed with him, the pair were both naked, and this other man not only had an invulnerable hand but looked just like the Emperor.

                No sooner had Ling finished this train of thought when the man abruptly relinquished his grip on the knife, pitching Greed forward a little, and bolting for the open window.

                “Greed!” Ling exclaimed, but he was already moving. He threw the knife at some corner of the room, both arms now coating in carbon, as he scrambled off the bed and towards the window. Somewhere, in some distant corner of Ling’s mind, he realized Greed was still buck naked. The image of Greed furiously chasing after the assailant, manhood swinging, ass exposed to the world, almost made Ling bark out a laugh.

                “I got it!” Greed called over his shoulder, climbing into the window frame. “Get Lan Fan!”

                “Right!” Ling said, throwing off the covers and standing up. He, on his part at least, grabbed the first pair of pants he could find and pulled them on as he stumbled towards the door. “I’ll—”

                In fact, Ling was not able to tell Greed what, exactly, he was going to do, because without warning, his vision blurred, his head began pounding, and he pitched forward onto the floor, pants tangled around his knees, hair undone and burred.

                “Kid!” he heard Greed call distantly. His mind was slow to realize he was being spoken to. It took him a moment to discover he was on his rug. What a nice red it was!

                “Kid,” Greed said again, voice closer, a hand on his shoulder.

                “The assassin,” Ling tried to say, although he couldn’t be sure if he actually said it or if he simply thought it. “Get the assassin. It’s fine...”

                “Lan Fan!” Greed shouted, rising and throwing the door open. “Lan Fan, get Mei!”

                Ling heard Lan Fan’s surprised shout from the hall before he slipped into sleep.

                Ling did not remember much from this time, admittedly. He drifted in and out of consciousness, floating on some fuzzy edge punctured by the pounding in his head. Once, when he regained some sense, he realized he was looking at the ceiling instead of the floor now—someone had flipped him onto his back. Another time, he heard Lan Fan and Greed arguing about something. He recognized Mei’s name come up, Lan Fan saying there were plenty of other very capable medical alchemists much closer by, that she was too far— _Far from what?_ —and Greed vehemently spitting no other individual would be allowed to touch him— _Oh, they’re talking about me_. A third time, he felt small, cool hands on his chest and Dragon’s Pulse flowing and being manipulated inside him. He took a shuddering breath and opened one eye to find Mei’s face—focused, terrified. She did not notice he woke up; she was completely devoted to his chest area. It didn’t matter much anyway; Ling fell back into unconsciousness almost immediately afterward.

                Did he dream? Perhaps. Sometimes, in his brief moments of waking, he thought he remembered some passing sensations of heat, of pain, of bruising—as well as laughter, freedom, some herald to times before. But like water, these feelings slipped through his fingers to the point where he couldn’t be sure he dreamed at all. He wavered between what was real and what was not: Mei, leaning over him, one hot tear splashing on his collarbone, Lan Fan grasping his hand and pressing his fingers to her forehead, Greed standing over him, arms crossed, muttering swear words and oaths swearing if Ling died, Greed would hunt him down in the afterlife and _really_ show him what Hell was—was it all real or simply figments of his own imagination? Ling could never tell.

                Sometime later—or was it only moments?—Ling woke up.

                It was a slow waking. It was sluggish and almost painful, his eyelids sticking together and his limbs feeling like stone. Taking his first breath during consciousness took an inordinate measure of focus, but he relished the feeling of cool air filling his lungs. He held onto the feeling for a moment before exhaling, felt energy rush back to his head—which was still aching but was no longer pounding. He focused on the feeling of soft, cool cloth on his toes and fingers and chest, the softness of a pillow under his neck. _Safe_. He was safe here. He could feel it.

                He opened his eyes, then, twisted his head side to side to take in his surroundings. The bed he was in was situated in a corner. To his left was hardwood. To his right, glaring at the floor, arms and legs crossed, sitting moodily in a chair, one finger impatiently tapping his elbow, now appropriately dressed, was Greed.

                “Greed,” Ling croaked out, suddenly aware of how unwieldy his tongue felt, how parched his throat was. Instantly, Greed’s head jerked upwards. The frustration in his eyes morphed into momentary relief before he jolted out of his chair and jerked open the door.

                “He’s awake!” he called down the hall. Not moments later, Lan Fan, Mei, and Shao Mei appeared in the doorway—along with an entourage of guards.

                “They stay outside,” Greed scowled at Lan Fan.

                “They’re trustworthy,” Lan Fan said, sounding mildly offended.

                “Don’t give a shit,” Greed snapped, apparently unconcerned with Lan Fan’s pride. “ _I_ don’t know them, so they _don’t_ come in.”

                Lan Fan’s expression twisted a little—she wasn’t wearing her mask, Ling registered—but one of the guards put a hand on her shoulder and said something in her ear.

                “Apologies,” she murmured back. The others bowed before stepping outside, closing the door behind them.

                “You have no right,” Lan Fan glared at Greed, who snorted.

                “ _Move_ ,” Mei snapped impatiently before Greed could reply. She shoved the man easily a head taller than her aside and joined Ling at his side.

                “How are you feeling?” Mei murmured, putting a hand on Ling’s forehead and a thumb on his wrist. Greed and Lan Fan made to come over when Shao Mei pushed them back with her snout.

                “Alright,” said Ling softly. “Thirsty. Head hurts.”

                “You’re dehydrated,” Mei replied curtly. “Be useful and get him some water! You’ve been out for four days,” she added as Greed disappeared out the door.

                “ _Four days_?” Ling exclaimed, weak voice cracking.

                “The poison was strong,” Mei said, brows furrowed as she drew back the covers, lifted his shirt, and pressed her palms to his chest. It was then Ling realized that someone must’ve dressed him while he was unconscious. The thought made him vaguely embarrassed for whatever reason.

                “I think—I _hope_ —I flushed it out, though. I’m hoping you’ve just been sleeping to recover.”

                “Forget about that,” Ling rasped, pushing himself up a bit. “What about the clan leaders? The audiences?”

                “Greed’s been standing in for you,” Mei answered, pressing Ling back into the sheets.

                “ _Greed_?” Ling repeated.

                “He’s only been appearing when he needs to—to make it look like everything’s fine. We canceled your public, open audiences,” Lan Fan finally intervened, allowing Mei to focus on her work. “And we were lucky—the other clan leaders didn’t ask for a meeting from you.”

                “They didn’t?” Ling frowned. “It’s been more than a week since I last spoke to them.”

                “We told them you were discussing things with the Yao.”

                “And my clansmen went along with that?”

                Lan Fan said, “We had to tell them about Greed.”

                Ling blinked. “Oh.”

                “We had to make it look good,” Lan Fan continued. “Just saying you were sick or busy wouldn’t have been good enough. We needed endorsement from other authorities—and I was obligated to tell the assassination attempt to the Yao, anyway. They spotted Greed eventually, and word spread, and I decided—”

                “Enough,” Ling held up a hand. “I trust you did what was best in the moment. The discovery of Greed is unfortunate but inevitable. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

                “At least now they believe in your tales of Amestris,” Mei said dryly, apparently finished. “Really—to think your own clansmen wouldn’t believe in you.”

                “Agreed,” Ling chuckled a little. “As if I would have the creativity to make up the entire story.”

                Mei snorted.

                “And the assassin?” Ling looked back at Lan Fan. “Where is he?”

                “Alive and well,” snarled Greed as he reentered with water. He slammed the pitcher onto the bedside table with perhaps more force than necessary and shoved a filled cup in Ling’s hands. He drank it greedily as Greed continued, “ _Someone_ didn’t want the little shit dead.”

                “He’s much more useful to us alive,” Lan Fan gave Greed a withering look. “You must understand this.”

                “He’s not going to tell us _shit_ ,” Greed snapped. “We’ve already tried. _I’ve_ already tried”—Ling wondered with mild nausea what, exactly, Greed did to the man that tried to kill the object of his affections—“Better we kill him and make an example.” At this, Greed turned to Ling, as if looking for support.

                “I agree with Lan Fan,” Ling replied flatly, looking Greed dead in the eye. “The potential information we can get out of him aside, the fact remains that, if he’s a clansman, killing him would look bad.”

                “Killing your would-be _killer_?”

                “One of my citizens,” Ling corrected. “If anything, he’d have to at least stand trial.”

                Greed sneered. “You’re the _Emperor_. Don’t be such a _bitch_.” He glared at Lan Fan, then, and demanded, “Tell him where you caught him.”

                Lan Fan, for the first time in a long time, looked mildly uncomfortable. “We found him on the rooftops. Reports say he had just released a messenger hawk.”

                “Were you able to intercept it?” Ling asked, panic spiking.

                Lan Fan bowed her head in shame. “No. Our best archers tried, but it flew just out of range.”

                “The guy almost jumped off the edge of the roof,” Greed added darkly. “He was ready to die rather than be caught and interrogated. You think a guy like that is going to tell us shit? The guy was going to die for his mission.”

                Ling frowned. If the man was prepared to die, then it was doubtful he was a simple hired assassin. He was likely a clansman, devoted and loyal to his clan before even his Emperor. If this was true, then Ling had to agree: this man would not break.

                And then there was the entirely separate problem of the report he sent. What were its contents? Ling was fairly sure he knew: a description of another man that looked just like the Emperor, lying naked in bed with him and possessing indestructible skin. Whoever received that report would also soon know Ling’s recounts of Amestris were more than stories.

                “He’s not worth keeping around,” Greed insisted. “Show him as an assassin from one of the clans and kill him publicly. Let them know what happens to people that go against you.”

                “Not that simple,” Ling replied. “Like I said, if we don’t stand trial, there’ll be a lot of questions. Mostly, we don’t have proof that he’s an assassin. When we execute him, he might just be some random guy we dressed up in black and beheaded.”

                “We have the knife still.”

                “That knife could come from anywhere.”

                “He was ready to die to kill you!”

                “By our word alone. No clan will claim credit for the assassination attempt. The assassin could very well become a martyr for some of the clans to base their rebellion off.” Ling’s voice was frank and bland—perhaps almost bored, if he was the type. The truth was stark, but the truth nonetheless.  

                Greed’s jaw jumped. “And you think a _trial_ would solve all of this?”

                “No,” Ling sighed haggardly, massaging his temple. “Like I said, we don’t have actual proof. My authority doesn’t mean enough, right now.”

                “So, what?” Greed snorted. “Do nothing?”

                “I don’t know,” Ling groaned. “I guess. Yes. For now. We can’t make a move, but whoever tried to kill me won’t announce it, either. Whoever makes the first move loses the war—if it’s not the perfect move, at least. We have some time to think about ours.”

                Greed snarled again and, fast as a snake, seized Ling by the shirtfront. Ling choked a little and instinctively tried to twist Greed’s wrist.

                “Listen you little shit—” Greed began, but was abruptly interrupted by the kunai pressed to his throat. Lan Fan, quick like a shadow, had appeared behind him.

                “Release the Emperor,” she said, voice cold.

                “Fuck off,” Greed snarled, but remaining still. 

                “Put him down,” Mei pressed, putting her small hands on Greed’s arm. “He’s still recovering.” Her touch was gentle, but her eyes were hard.

                Greed’s grip tightened a little—just for a second—but he eventually dropped Ling back in bed. He coughed a little and reached out for his water before realizing he had dropped the cup. Mei silently picked it up, refilled it, and handed it to him. He murmured his thanks.

                “Lan Fan, put that shit away,” Greed growled. Ling looked up to find Lan Fan had not removed her weapon from Greed’s neck.

                “Lan Fan,” Ling said, voice hoarse, “it’s fine.”

                Lan Fan’s brows puckered a little and her lips tightened, but she did as Ling asked. Still, there was a fine red line stretching across Greed’s neck. When he pressed his hand to it, it came away bloody. He clicked his tongue, and Ling was reminded Greed’s ability to regenerate had been taken from him.

                “Alright, fine,” Greed grumbled, “so you don’t want to give the order to kill him. Then just give me some time with him. You don’t have to know a thing.”

                Ling’s frown deepened. He knew what Greed was offering: a free out. A way for the assassin to be punished while Ling keeping his own hands clean—theoretically. But even this was, as far as he was concerned, an order by allowance.

                “No,” said Ling. “We will go about this the right way. When the clans rise up against me, I don’t want any more things they can blame me with than they do already.”

                “Who _cares_?” Greed practically shouted, his hand jerking forward a little as if contemplating grabbing Ling again. “You’re not the one that’s starting the war, it’s _them_! They made the first move, not you. You’re the fucking _Emperor_! You can do whatever the fuck you want! So, remind them who they’re messing with.” He leaned forward, then, putting his hands on either side of Ling’s hips and his face close enough that Ling was suddenly embarrassed by Lan Fan and Mei’s presences.

                “I can kill them for you, you know,” Greed murmured to him, tilting his head a little. Ling could feel the ghost of Greed’s lips on his own, couldn’t help the mild blush in his cheeks as he was reminded of their night a few nights before. _Their_ night. Is that what he and Greed were now? A _they_?

                “Just say the word, baby,” Greed pressed forward, his voice almost a low hum. “I’ll kill them all for you. Just tell me a name—I’ll bring you their head. All of them, if you want. You can dress up in your shiny robes and you pretty crown and I’ll bring you all the bodies from the battlefield.”

                They were practically kissing when Mei coughed a little. For a moment, Greed did not pull back, catching Ling’s stunned eyes with his own, expression unreadable, before falling away. The sudden rush of air left in his space was cold and unwelcoming. Ling struggled to compose himself, hoping he did not look as flustered as he felt. He should _not_ have this sort of reaction when hearing another man offering to massacre a population at his behest.

                Mercifully, Lan Fan and Mei’s expressions were tactfully schooled—as if they did not just witness two men being alarmingly intimate while discussing an unrelated topic. Ling was once again grateful for them.

                “ _Anyways_ ,” Mei said, glaring a little reproachfully at Greed, “you don’t need to make the decision right now. You just woke up. We can hold down the fort while you’re recovering.”

                “I’m fine,” Ling said immediately, straightening a little.

                “You’re not,” Mei frowned. “That poison almost killed you. I’m not kidding—I’m pretty sure your heart stopped at least twice. And you were barely nicked by the blade if the cut on your neck is anything to go by.”

                “You've worked hard,” Ling sighed. “Thank you. Once again, your expertise has saved my life.”

                “It was touch and go,” Mei shrugged, idly patting Shao Mei on the head. “I wasn’t familiar with the poison at all. Maybe it was a mixture or maybe it was rare.”

                “The Zhou is known for their poisons,” Ling supplied without real direction.

                “Agreed,” Lan Fan said, “but if they have allies like the Princess tells us, then the man may belong to any clan and was given the poison to use.”

                “Yes, of course,” Ling sighed again, rubbing his forehead.

                “Just rest,” said Mei. “We’ll poke around a little and report back to you. Okay?”

                “Yes, okay,” Ling relented, shoulders drooping a little. Privately, he was relieved he had others to do the work for him, for once—as selfish as it was. But Mei and Lan Fan were dependable. And although Greed was unsubtle and brash, it seemed he was committed to Ling’s cause. He would get the work done if it was necessary—more if he was not kept in check. Ling made a note to himself to monitor Greed closely. He would not put it past him to take matters into his own hands.

                “Well, if that’s all,” Mei clapped her hands, “we’ll leave you alone. We’ll start doing some investigating.”

                “I am leaving two guards at your door,” Lan Fan said. “You can trust they will be diligent.” At this, she shot Greed a reproachful look. He had the decency to look almost guilty, sulking a little at the floor.

                “Thank you.”

                “It is no trouble, Your Majesty. I am ashamed that an assassin was allowed so close to you, at all.”

                “It’s not your fault.”

                “Perhaps.” Another glare at Greed. “But as captain, it is my responsibility. I apologize on all our behalves.”

                “Yeah,” Greed grunted, “I’m sorry too. It’s my bad.”

                Ling tried not to laugh; he was fairly certain he’d never heard Greed apologize before. “As I said, it’s fine; I am alive and well. No harm was done.”

                Greed shook his head, as if unconvinced. Lan Fan looked as if she agreed.

                “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?” Mei said. Shao Mei began herding Lan Fan and Greed towards the door. “Good night.”

                “Good night,” Ling replied, watching them go. He gave a weak but brave wave and half-smile in reply to Mei’s own energetic one and a nod to Lan Fan.

                Greed offered little but a single glance over his shoulder. Ling’s smile faded unbidden as their eyes met for a moment, unable to decipher Greed’s expression. Not a second later, the door was closed, and he was left alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some Communication 
> 
> also: with the last chapter i got a lot of positive comments and I just wanted to say how much that means to me. i really do feel more motivated knowing you guys are waiting for the next chapter and enjoying the story. i'm sorry this chapter took a little longer than the rest and is not very content heavy besides; I've had some stuff I've had to take care of in Real Life, as you all are familiar with. this was meant to be a transition chapter quickly released before the next chapter, but things didn't work out. 
> 
> anyways. thanks. u guys are great. 
> 
> glvssanimals.tumblr.com/

                Honestly, Ling didn’t know what he was expecting. His stay in remission was more or less uneventful, punctured only by visits from his personal guard or his clansmen, who immediately fell on their knees and professed their apologies for not believing in Ling’s stores of Amestris. He was tempted to make them work harder for his forgiveness, but decided pettiness was unbecoming of an Emperor; he bade them to rise and politely engaged in administrative conversation for a while before they saw themselves out.

                Mei came by multiple times a day to make sure Ling was recovering correctly. She looked winded and tired every time he saw her, and when he pointed it out, she only huffed, “Well, there’s not much to be done about that.”

                “You can stop checking in on me,” Ling suggested. “Maybe ask one of the other royal doctors to take some of your shifts.”

                “Greed won’t let them,” Mei said, “and honestly? I agree with him. We don’t know who to trust. If I have to miss some sleep to make sure you’re fine, that’s alright with me.” She said it frankly, but Ling still felt incredibly humbled. He thanked her, and she only shrugged.

                Lan Fan also visited, but not frequently. When Ling asked, she only said that she was still investigating the identity of his failed assassin and under whose orders he might be acting under.

                “Has he said anything more?”

                “No, Your Majesty,” answered Lan Fan. Then, she added, “Your Majesty, I did not ask when you woke because I did not want to trouble you, but now I must know: do you have any idea what the contents of the message the man sent might contain?”

                At this, Ling only smiled, albeit bitterly. “Greed and I were together.”

                Lan Fan did not ask for further explanation.

                The visitor that was most poignantly absent was Greed, who came and went with even less frequency than Lan Fan. Every time he came, he was moody, gruff, and not very forthcoming about the happenings of the castle save for his own gripes—namely, dressing up as Ling and acting as Emperor in his stead when needed.

                “You’re not even doing half the work,” Ling sighed into his soup one evening. “You’re just making public appearances.”

                “Your getup is stuffy,” Greed snarled. “And don’t get me started with those fucking beads in my fucking eyes. Why do you wear that shit?”

                “It’s traditional.”

                “Fuck tradition,” Greed snorted. “Times have changed, kid. You’re the Emperor; you can dress however you want.”

                At this, Ling smiled. “You mean I could dress like you.”

                Greed glanced down at his loose pants and shirt and shrugged. “Hey, if the Emperor made a new royal decree saying he could go around wearing pants instead of that robe, I wouldn’t complain.”

                This was perhaps the longest conversation Ling had with Greed. He was not sure if he should be bothered by this. Just a few days ago, he was more intimate with the man than he had been even when they shared a body. Now, they spent their time together with Ling mutely eating his meals and Greed going off on the assassin’s silence, his frustration at a multitude of clan leaders, and how he was no longer allowed in their room anymore. He cited the reason that Lan Fan and the rest of the guard insisted Ling move to a new room with fewer entrances and further secluded in the palace. Ling felt a strange flip in his stomach when Greed called it _their_ room and chastised himself. He was not going to be a child about this.

                It was almost another four days before Ling felt strong and confident enough to dive right back into his duties. Mei had wanted to keep him under observation for a bit longer, but even she had to agree that the lack of public speeches and audiences was becoming a problem—and there was no way Ling was going to let Greed speak for him. He was completely confident Greed would throw the entire country into anarchy in less than an hour.

                As Greed warned, Ling was not allowed to enter his old room. Instead, he was squirreled away in the older parts of the palace, before the castle was further expanded to accommodate the Emperors’ fifty wives and then some. It was the part of the palace Ling had grown up in, but he did not feel particularly comfortable returning to it. All princes and princesses were kept in this area, and out of courtesy, Ling allowed them to stay when he succeeded the throne. However, with his ascension, they had little reason to stay; they all returned to their respective clans. Now, the place was empty and silent—a stark contrast to the loud and playful times of his youth. Before they knew about politics and clan separations, Ling had many happy memories with his half-siblings.

                All of Ling’s things had been moved to the backmost room. He was just sitting himself on the bed and settling in when the door was thrown open. Of course, it was Greed. Who was he to knock?

                “This place sucks,” Greed scowled. “This is where you grew up?”

                “This place is perfectly fine,” Ling said somewhat defensively. “Although, no, it’s nowhere near as nice as the Emperor’s quarters. But, well, what do you expect?”

                Greed snorted and leaned on the doorframe. “So? Is this your room?”

                “Obviously.”

                “No,” Greed waved his hand impatiently, “I mean—was this _your_ room? When you were younger?”

                Ling blinked. “Oh—no, it’s not. My room is further forward. These rooms in the back were for the smaller clans, typically.”

                “No wonder they’re shit,” Greed clicked his tongue. He didn’t ask for permission when he threw himself on the bed with Ling and stretched himself out.

                “You don’t have to stay here,” Ling pointed out. “You’re welcome to any of the rooms.”

                “Yeah, like I’m going to leave you alone after what happened,” Greed rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

                “I have guards,” Ling said, although he felt a rush of affection. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

                Greed sat up abruptly and stared hard at Ling, as if looking to see if he was kidding. When Ling did not say anything more, Greed sighed and fell back into the bed.

                “You’re not a bother, kid,” Greed said, arms behind his head. “It’s my fault you’re in this situation, anyway.” He scowled at the ceiling. “I didn’t actually think they’d have the guts to do anything. I thought Lan Fan was just being paranoid.” Greed traced the angry red line on his neck, then, contemplative. “Hell, if I had my ultimate shield taken from me too, you definitely would’ve died. I couldn’t have done shit.”

                He sounded particularly bitter. It reminded Ling of the times when they were alone so many years ago, wandering the city streets and forested outskirts in the middle of the night. How badly they both wanted to be rulers! And how lonely it was at the top! Perhaps that was why they got along, despite everything: for power, they knew what they had to give up. Yet, in each other, they found comradery they did not think they would be able to have.

                “But you _did_ save me,” Ling said. “Thank you. I’m not sure if I’ve thanked you, yet.”

                For a moment, Greed was still. Then, without warning, he hooked an arm around Ling’s waist and pulled him into the bed. Not a second later, he was on top of him, grin wide.

                “Yeah?” Greed said, leaning in, one hand on either side of Ling’s head. “You want to show me how thankful you are, Your Radiance?”

                Ling felt himself blush furiously, but before he could reply or even _do_ anything, Greed retreated. Surprised and more than a little disappointed, Ling sat up to find Greed standing at the foot of the bed.

                “Couldn’t resist,” Greed chuckled a little when he saw Ling. He threw up a hand in a half-wave before heading for the door.

                “Where are you going?” Ling asked, voice askance.

                “Sorry, kid,” Greed said over his shoulder and even sounding genuine, “but last time this happened, you almost died.”

                “Wait,” Ling rose. Greed paused and looked back, perhaps wondering if he was speaking to the man or the Emperor.

                “I am not some fragile doll you must handle with care,” Ling frowned. “Sit down and speak with me.”

                Greed looked as if he was considering disobeying before sighing and taking a seat at the foot of the bed. The room did not have a desk or extra seats, which left Ling to sit back down on the bed with Greed.

                “Okay, sure,” Greed said. “What do you want?”

                Greed’s tone was playful, but Ling’s expression was serious. “I have decided that if you want to keep the specifics of your rebirth to yourself, that’s your business. I think it is clear you are loyal—in your own way.” Greed opened his mouth, but Ling held up a hand. “I’m not finished. I don’t doubt your loyalties, but I wonder about your intentions. I am Emperor. Be clear with me. If all you want is entertainment, consider me out of it. There are many others in this kingdom that would be happy to indulge you, but I will have no part of it. I have more things to be worried about than the frivolities of a lover.” He paused and added, “You’re Greed. You want things. I understand this. But some things—”

                “The only thing I want is you.” When Ling doesn’t say anything, Greed continued, “No matter whatever the fuck I did, the only thing I thought about was what you were doing, or what you were thinking, or if you were thinking about me. Fuck, I bet I could’ve been buried in a pile of hookers and I’d still think about you.” Greed snorted and glared as if Ling was at fault here.

                “The faceless bitch only gave me one ability because he made me choose: immortality, regeneration, or my ultimate shield,” Greed said bitterly. “I wanted all of them—I mean, you know. Of course I did. Anyways. Turns out the choice took me two years.”

                Ling spluttered.

                “Time ran differently,” Greed explained blandly. “It took me a while because, you know, I was trying to convince the shit to let me keep all three—or two, even, but no dice. It was one or none.” Greed stuck out his tongue in distaste. "Shit was annoying as fuck. Anyways, when I finally decided, I was dropped into your room, and that’s when you found me.”

                Ling blinked. “You said you were wandering for the past two years.”

                Greed barked a laugh. “Yeah, that’s my bad. Honestly, I...” Greed clicked his tongue and cast his gaze to the ceiling, apparently unable to look Ling in the eye. “I guess I didn’t want to be the only one thinking about you for two years. So, yeah. Sorry about that. My second ever lie—but the last. For real, this time. It was a spur of the moment thing. You made me nervous.” He shrugged.

                Ling laughed and bumped Greed with his shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I thought about you.”

                He snorted. “Shut up.”

                “I did!” Ling exclaimed, laughing again. “I wondered what you would tell me during some things, or what you would say, or wondered what you might be doing if you were still here.”

                Greed’s face was in his hand, but Ling still saw a small smile from underneath his palm.

                “Anyways,” Greed cleared his throat, smile gone and expression serious, “I came back for you. I mean, I’ll mess around, I guess, but you’re not the same as any of those guys. Those kids are just lays.” Greed looked at him. “You’re the first one that offered me companionship. I’m holding you to it.”

                The room was silent for a moment before Ling chuckled and fell back onto the bed. “Ah, I’m glad that’s over with. I’d rather have had an audience with the clans than do that again.”

                “Fuck off,” Greed snorted, also lying down. He tangled their legs together and hooked his arm underneath Ling’s neck.

                “Stay.”

                Greed glanced down at Ling, perhaps mishearing.

                “Stay,” Ling repeated.

                “Can’t,” Greed grunted, propping his chin on Ling’s head. “Guard duty.”

                “That didn’t stop you last time.”

                “Don’t remind me,” Greed scowled. “If I hadn’t woken up, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

                It was just as well. Ling was confident that, if he had died that night, Greed would’ve gone on a rampage through Xing trying to find the clan responsible. It would’ve been almost touching if Ling didn’t know Greed would have little regard for the wellbeing of Xing at the end of it.

                “Then when are you off guard duty? We can spend time together then.”

                “‘Spend time together’,” Greed repeated. Ling could hear him smirk.

                “Don’t be stupid. I meant lunch. Or more lessons.”

                “Those lessons sucked,” Greed yawned a little. “You’re a shit teacher.”

                “Perhaps you’re just a shit student.”

                “The student reflects the master.”

                “When are you off duty?”

                “Never.”

                “What?” Ling pulled away so Greed could see him frown. “Lan Fan has assigned you to all the guard duties?” That did not sound like her at all.

                “No,” Greed clicked his tongue, looking uncomfortable. “I’m just making it my business to be there for all of them.”

                “Ah,” Ling snorted, “you’re paranoid.”

                “Look, I don’t know these guys. For all I know—”

                “You _don’t_ know,” Ling interrupted. “My personal guard has been recruited and trained since before I was born. I would trust these people with my life. This should be good enough for you.”

                Greed was still frowning. Ling sighed.

                “Alright. I can’t blame you, I guess.”

                “You should be thanking me, kid.”

                “I guess. Mostly it’s an offense to my guard.”

                Greed snorted. “I couldn’t give a shit if they’re offended.”

                “I know,” Ling rolled his eyes. “That’s the problem.” He added after a moment, “Do not try to be on guard duty at all times.”

                “Ling—”

                “I’m not asking. You don’t have to spend time with me during your free times, but at least give my guard the respect to do their jobs.”

                Greed only grunted, but it was enough of a concession for Ling to know he would listen.

                After a while, Greed untangled himself from Ling and made for the door.

                “I don’t think we’ll see each other much,” Greed said flatly, expression unhappy. “Not until this thing has blown over.”

                “Of course,” Ling said, knowing the sense of it but unable to stop the stab of disappointment. Still, he understood where Greed was coming from and the necessity of it. If Greed had not suggested it, he was sure he would’ve, instead. This was no time to get caught up in frivolities and lust. There were killers in his very court. Distractions could mean death. There would be time—a lot of time—at the end of it all. For now, they both needed absolute focus.

                “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid,” Greed bade him goodnight. Ling murmured something similar before Greed slipped out and shut the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the long wait. I was on spring break the past week and I was also doing some job searching. This also seems to be an opportune moment to warn that other updates may be slow in the future. However, we are nearly at the end, I think. At the very least, we are past the halfway point. 
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with me on this journey. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you for all your comments. 
> 
> glvssanimals.tumblr.com/

               Ling called a meeting with the clan leaders the next day. He wasn’t looking forward to it by any means, but the fact was he needed to address them. More time had passed than he had intended. He told them that he would not be changing his new policies, but was willing to work closely with advisors that they chose to work on the overpopulation problems and border disputes. To his immense surprise, the leaders bowed and murmured their thanks for his consideration and his deliberation after this entire time. He was ready for questions, complaints, and interrogations on his absence. He received none. He suspected it was because these clan leaders wanted to speak about the assassination attempt about as much as he did.

               Lan Fan did not allow him to practice, now—or, at least, not in public. Ling was unhappy about this but was not stupid enough to complain. In fact, if Lan Fan hadn’t strongly insisted against it, he probably would’ve stopped practicing, himself. There was no way he was going to situate himself in a public setting with multiple sharp objects in the close vicinity.

               That left him to prepare for the impending war—because it was impending, now. Everyone had to accept that. The assassination attempt left little room for interpretation. The other clans were against him. If he did not yield, he would be killed, and someone better suiting their interests would come into the throne. Ling would not have any of it.

               Thankfully, Mei came through with some of the alliances her clan had made. Of course, she did. Ling never had any reason to doubt. But hearing her confirm with a tired but happy smile certainly improved his mood.

               “That’s great,” Ling said with relief. “How many?”

               “Not too many,” Mei shrugged frankly. “Only six, including the Chang. We’re small, but we’re loyal. We’ll back you up. And, I’ll be honest with you: most clans are unhappy about the new policies, or they don’t know how to feel, but I’m pretty sure they’re not willing to rise against their Emperor. Some people still have respect.” She sniffed a little. “If you ask them to fight, I think they will.”

               “Maybe,” Ling said. “I’d rather the major clans make a mistake before I announce war on them.”

               “You might not have the luxury of waiting.”

               “I know. Don’t worry; if they try and kill me again, I’ll make the move.”

               Mei hummed thoughtfully, tapping her fingers on Shao-Mei’s head, before grinning. “So, you and Greed?”

               “Don’t,” Ling sighed wearily and hid his face behind his hand.

               “He seems to like you a lot,” Mei said gleefully.

               “I’m sorry for that scene in the recovery room. That was inappropriate.”

               Mei laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush that much!”

               “You’d blush too if Alfonse did that in front of others!”

               Mei only cackled. Despite himself, Ling smiled. Her happy giggles and his embarrassed reproaches echoed through the halls that day—a momentary respite in their days of stress.

               The next day, he called for Lan Fan. She materialized in his room not moments later and bowed. “You called for me, Your Majesty?”

               “I want to speak to the prisoner.”

               Lan Fan paused. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Your Majesty.”

               “And why is that?”

               “He tried to kill you,” Lan Fan said flatly. “I don’t see how it could make sense to put you in the same room with him.”

               “You’ll be there,” Ling replied, “and he’s unarmed, I’m sure.”

               Lan Fan frowned. “Regardless, it seems to be an unnecessary risk—particularly considering he hasn’t said anything. I doubt you will get much from him, Your Majesty.”

               “I don’t expect to,” Ling said frankly. “I simply want to look the man how despised me so much he was willing to kill me in the eye.”

               Lan Fan looked unconvinced.

               “Lan Fan,” Ling finally sighed, “I will order you if I have to.”

               She pressed her lips together. “Then order me, Your Majesty. I cannot condone this.”

               It made him falter a little; Ling had never had to order Lan Fan to do anything—not really. The nature of their relationship made it hard for them to be friends, but outright ordering Lan Fan to do something she didn’t want to do seemed like a serious breach of something Ling never thought he would have to do.

               Still, she only had his best interests at heart. In this case, however, he thought she was being overly cautious. He trusted his guards would keep him safe, and he was not exactly helpless, either; he was confident he could fight off one unarmed man if he had to.

               When he arrived at the cell, however, he was met with Greed at its door, arms crossed and wearing a deep scowl.

               “ _No_ ,” he snarled before Ling could even get a word out. Ling glanced at Lan Fan at his side, who only shrugged.

               “If I could not convince Your Majesty,” she said, “perhaps he can.”

               “Move,” Ling sighed.

               “You’re not going to get shit from him,” Greed snapped. “I’ve tried. _Thoroughly_. You believe me, don’t you?”

               “Yes, I do.” Ling had little doubt Greed would’ve subjected the poor man to a multitude of tortures to get even a peep from him. “That does not change the fact that I want to see him. I don’t think I’ll get anything from him. I don’t want to. I just want to see him for myself.”

               “You’ve seen him already.”

               “Him standing over me with a poisoned knife dressed completely in black does not count. Besides, you were taking up half the view.”

               Greed did not seem to appreciate Ling’s humor. “Look, kid, when me and Lan Fan agree on something, don’t you think that should tell you something? Like, maybe listen to us?”

               “You’re overreacting,” Ling dismissed them with finality. “The man is unarmed and weakened. I am fully capable of defending myself, and you all will be right outside if something happens. In fact, you can both come in, if you like. I’ve no problems with that. Just let me look at him.”

               “Fuck you. You can order Lan Fan, but not me.” Greed jabbed a finger into Ling’s chest. Ling brushed it away impatiently.

               “I’m going in there,” Ling said. “You can either wait out here or come in with me.”

               With that, he shoved Greed aside with his shoulder and wrenched open the door. The stench that assaulted him was a mix of sweat, blood, and urine. An assassin sent after the Emperor was not kept in kind cells.

               The man was sitting in a chair, hands bound behind him and completely stripped save for his undergarments. His skin was shiny with sweat and grime, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. There were multiple lacerations on his arms and chest. Most were still crusted with dried blood. When Ling looked closer, he saw a few toes were missing from his feet. At the sudden light spilling inside, he looked up. The only acknowledgment of recognition Ling received was the slight narrowing of his eyes before his expression became impassive.

               “Hello,” Ling said because he wasn’t sure what else to say. He knelt, even though his nose complained about every inch he approached, so he could look the man in the eye at even footing. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

               The man spat on his cheek. Ling wiped it off with his sleeve about the same time Greed snarled and seized the man’s hair in a very painfully looking grip. His hand was covered in carbon. Ling could only imagine how it felt to have very sharp fingers scraping against one’s scalp.

               “ _Watch it_ ,” Greed warned him with a spirited yank. The man flinched, but his expression was unafraid. And, indeed, what did he have to fear? Pain? Death?

               “Relax,” Ling told Greed. He only clicked his tongue and released his grip with disgust. His ultimate shield faded away as well—begrudgingly.

               “Will you tell me your name?” Ling asked, voice cool. The man was silent.

               “Then, why you tried to kill me, perhaps?” At this, the man snorted. Ling expected as much. He doubted he would tell Ling his entire life story, why he hated the emperor, what might have happened in his life for him to arrive at this point, and all other factors that might have made this happen. Ling was the object of his distaste, his disgust, his hate. There was no reason he would want to justify himself to Ling.

               “Very well,” Ling said. “I wanted to meet you, that’s all. I’m telling you right now: the war is going to happen. You guaranteed that. I can’t avoid it anymore. At the end of it, the winner decides how the other clans are treated. Tell me why you’re doing this. I’ll do my best to fix it for the others like you—when I win.”

               Ling was only awarded with a scowl.

               “Ask for me when you want,” Ling said as he rose. “I’ll come see you when I can.” He beckoned to Greed before they exited. Greed swung the door closed and crossed his arms.

               “You get what you came for, Your Majesty?” he sneered.

               “I don’t know,” Ling sighed, wiping his cheek again. He had gotten all the spit off before, but he swore he could still feel something sticky on his skin.

               “You should be doing something useful,” Greed continued, “like getting allies or figuring out which clans have it out for you for sure. Not talking to some shit that’s not going to talk back.”

               “I’m aware of what I should be doing,” Ling stated, looking at Greed. He looked as if he wanted to say more but wisely settled for grumbling to himself.

               “Tell me if he says anything,” Ling addressed Lan Fan, “or if he asks for me. That’s an order, to be clear.”

               “I know, Your Majesty,” she bowed. Ling felt his heart twist a little but dismissed it. This was well within his rights as Emperor. There was no reason to feel guilty, he reasoned with himself.

               Still, he found he was reassuring himself, thinking that after this was all over, he could apologize to Lan Fan and do something to appreciate her hard work, and return everything to normal again. He was being a child. He was sure things would not be the quite same ever again.

               Greed walked him back to his chambers. They were silent as Ling stewed through his thoughts. At last, in front of Ling’s room, he asked, “What are you going to do, now?”

               “Eat,” Ling said. “Then I have to speak to the Yao. They have many questions, still—about you, namely.”

               “Ha,” Greed scoffed, a ghost of a smile on his face. “They still don’t believe you?”

               “On the contrary, they’re asking if I can make more of you.”

               “What?”

               “I told them everything about Amestris,” said Ling. “They know how you were made. They wanted to discuss making more. For the war, you know.”

               After a moment, Greed said, “That’s smart.”

               Ling groaned. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

               “What? It makes sense. If you can make more homunculi, you should. There’s no reason not to.”

               “Of course, there is,” Ling sighed into his hand. “Making homunculi requires philosopher’s stones. Philosopher’s stones require multiple human lives. I’m not sacrificing hundreds of lives for a weapon.”

               Greed snorted. “You say that, but.”

               “But?”

               Greed paused and stared over Ling’s shoulder, apparently gathering his thoughts, before saying, “Your clansmen won’t like it.”

               “It’s not right.”

               “Nothing’s right in war, kid,” Greed said flatly. “There’s no such thing as moral high ground—just stupid fucks that are too slow to figure that out.”

               “Fuck off,” Ling frowned. “I won’t be shamed for sticking to some semblance of morals.”

               “I’m just saying,” Greed shrugged moodily, “if it was the enemy, you think they’d hesitate?”

               Ling had to think about that one for a moment. He would like to say no, the nation he lived in and the clans he grew up with would not stoop to such a level, but wouldn’t those in Amestris have thought the same of their authorities? Power, after all, made some people do very strange and desperate things. Perhaps Greed was right: it was stupid to think that the other clans would not do this and even stupider to allow himself to be at this gross disadvantage. The pair lapsed into silence as Ling frowned into his hand, suddenly without an appetite.

               As it turned out, the meeting went exactly as Greed predicted. The initial conversation was normal—if not tedious—as expected. The Yao leaders asked how Ling was doing. He assured them he was fine. They asked if there was anything more they could do for his recovery. He said the only thing was to make sure the situation was resolved as quickly and peacefully as possible. They asked if he had thought about undoing his policies. He said no, he was not going to.

               “This will mean war,” Yong mused aloud. He could practically hear everyone’s thoughts in the room: _Did you finally get what you wanted, Your Majesty?_

               “Indeed,” said Ling. “Of course, you can expect I’m about as happy about this outcome as I am. However, the recent assassination attempt leaves little to the imagination: the major clans are against me. At this point, we are beyond, I believe, diplomacy and reason. I’m now asking for your support as well as your help in gathering resources and allies for our cause.”

               “Of course, Your Radiance.” The room bowed to him.

               “It goes without saying that allies are few and far between these days,” Ling continued. “I am deciding to put my trust in you, my fellow clansmen. For all our sakes, I hope it is the right choice.”

               “You need not doubt our loyalties, Your Majesty,” Jun assured him. “You are our Emperor, and you are a Yao, besides. We are behind you.”

               “That is a relief to hear.”

               “We are only happy to serve, Your Radiance. And, now that war is upon us, might we present some suggestions?”

               “Of course,” Ling bade Jun, heart sinking. “Please.”

               “As Your Majesty is aware, Your Majesty has no experience in war. Some of us advisors, however, have some experience in border conflicts and such between clans and neighboring lands. Humbly, we believe we are rather well suited to advise Your Majesty in this trying time.”

               “Certainly.”

               “We are grateful,” Jun bowed his head. “Then, we will make sure to prepare our forces and make the necessary preparations in our resources and time. However, we wonder if there are other resources we might be able to utilize for this war.”

               “Such as?”

               “The philosopher’s stones, Your Radiance.”

               _Damn_. “What about them?”

               “Now that the existence of homunculi is clear to us, philosopher’s stones seem to be a source of power that cannot be ignored.”

               “Of course,” said Ling, “but, as you must have heard, even Greed does not possess a stone, anymore. All stones were destroyed—or, if not, buried deep somewhere they cannot be found. I am inclined to leave them there.”

               “But, Your Majesty, philosopher’s stones are powerful weapons. We cannot afford to overlook them.”

               “Overlook? I’ve hardly overlooked them. Have you forgotten what I said the cost of philosopher’s stones is?” When the room did not reply, Ling continued, “Human souls. Imagine the number of people we would have to sacrifice! The point of mitigating the war is to lose as few lives as possible. Wouldn’t you agree?”

               The clansmen ducked their heads.

               “This is true, Your Majesty,” murmured Jun. “Certainly, we did not mean to make light of the many lives that would be needed to create new philosopher’s stones. We were not suggesting that we make any new ones, just find ones that already exist.”

               “They would all be in the West,” Ling frowned. “Hardly worth a trip over the entire desert. Not during this time.”

               “Ah, but, Your Radiance,” piped up an older clansman—the oldest at the advisor’s table. “There may yet be philosopher’s stones here, in Xing.”

               Ling felt his heart jump. “Is that so?”

               “Long ago, there was the golden alchemist that taught alchemy to our people,” Jun supplied. “According to legend, this alchemist came from the West.”

               “The West has a similar story,” Ling said, “although, in theirs, the alchemist comes from the East.”

               “Perhaps this alchemist came from neither place,” Jun suggested, “but from someplace in the middle. For example: the desert.”

               “You’re talking about Xerxes.”

               “Indeed, Your Majesty. Was not the father of Fullmetal from Xerxes, in fact?”

               “He was. You are implying this man was the golden alchemist of legend?”

               “He was the first alchemist, according to the story he told,” Jun reasoned, “and his light hair would certainly explain why he would be dubbed the ‘golden’ alchemist.”

               “I suppose.”

               “In any case, it seems likely that there are some traces of philosopher’s stones in Xing. It would seem a waste to leave such sources of power, no?”

               “We will not be using philosopher’s stones in this war,” Ling said with finality, frown deep. “Many souls in agony are hidden in those stones. If they are found, we will destroy them and allow those poor souls to find peace.”

               The room glanced at each other uncertainly.

               “Your Majesty,” said the oldest advisor once again. He was so old his silver beard trailed over the top of the table as he leaned forward. However, Sheng’s mind was strong and shrewd; his graying eyes were sharp as he raised a thick brow to consider Ling.

               “If I may speak frankly?”

               “Please, sir,” Ling said. He was not eager to hear what Sheng had to say, but he would not be disrespectful enough to dismiss the words of an elder.

               “Your hope for morality is admirable but foolish,” Sheng said. “Take it from a man who has seen much war in his time: there is no room for morals.”

               Ling was sharply reminded of Greed’s words. He shifted a little in his seat.

               “You are a good man, Your Majesty,” Sheng murmured, “but good men do not last long in this world.”

               Ling sat back in his seat and held his chin in his hand, brow furrowed. He would be remiss to ignore an old, decorated general such as Sheng.

               “In my time in Amestris,” Ling said at last, putting his hand down, “I saw those who wielded philosopher’s stones create many incredible miracles. However, for as many miracles I saw, I saw twice as many catastrophes—and no matter what, they were always made at the expense of the tortured souls within the stones.” He looked around the room, frowning. “I know you all doubt the success of our army without the strength of philosopher’s stones behind us. However, I believe that even using these stones means we have lost. I cannot approve of such methods after seeing the atrocities they have committed.”

               The room was silent, waiting with tense, bated breath.

               “We will search and gather any traces of stones in Xing,” Ling continued, “but we will destroy the stones rather than use them. If we find the stones before the enemy, then there will be no gross disadvantage. I understand where you’re coming from, Advisor Sheng, but I must consider my own experiences, as well.”

               Sheng did not look happy, but he didn’t look offended, either. He bowed his head respectfully. “Understood, Your Radiance. I will be sure our forces are sure to keep an eye out for these stones and destroy them on sight.”

               “Thank you,” Ling said. “Then, if that is all on this matter, let me hear what statuses our allies are in.”

               The remainder of the meeting consisted of a census of which clans were on their side and which were not, and which remained undecided and available for swaying. Ling could tell this war would be won by backroom deals and under the table bartering rather than on the field. He supposed it was better this way: there would be less bloodshed, fewer casualties. Still, this was outside of his comfort zone and beyond his experience. It would require he depend on his more experienced advisors to secure a loyal following. In theory, he should be fine with this. but Ling found himself feeling uncomfortable being without a degree of control. Should a King not know all the workings of his kingdom? How could he be expected to lead if he could not gather his clans together in all ways necessary?

               In the end, Ling left the war room feeling significantly more fatigued than when he entered. He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

               “That bad?”

               Ling looked up to find Greed, fully dressed in black and a mask, arms crossed, before him. He sighed again, but this one was of relief.

               “Worse.”

               “Come on,” Greed jerked his head towards the hall. “I’m supposed to get you to your room. What happened?” he added as they began to walk.

               “Most of it was predictable,” Ling shrugged, “but they asked about the philosopher’s stones like you said.”

               “And?”

               “And?” Ling repeated. “And I told them we’re not using them. If any are found in Xing, we’re destroying them.”

               “You think that’s going to work?”

               Ling started, glancing at Greed just in front of his door. “What do you mean?”

               “I mean,” Greed shrugged a little, “there’s going to be a lot of guys searching for this shit, right? How are you going to guarantee none of them steal some for themselves? Maybe sell them to the enemy?”

               Ling opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Alright,” he said at last, “fine. What’s your suggestion?”

               “Send a small mercenary party to find them,” said Greed immediately. “One that you trust absolutely.”

               “A small team?”

               “You can’t spare a bigger group,” Greed shook his head. “Otherwise, people will know something’s up. Plus, a smaller group moves faster. It’s more efficient. Smart.”

               “Okay,” Ling said slowly, opening his door and nodding for Greed to join him inside, “if I make this team, who do you think should be on it?”

               Greed crossed his arms and frowned, apparently thinking. “You could sense something was wrong when we were in Amestris, right?”

               “Yes,” said Ling. “A strange disturbance through the Dragon’s Pulse from the tortured souls, I expect.”

               “Then you need people that have good sense of that,” Greed said. “If there’s stones here, they’re hidden fucking well. Father never even mentioned any that’d be here—not that he told us shit, but still. I wouldn’t put it past him.” He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Prick.”

               “Mei,” Ling suggested. “She has the greatest talent for this sort of thing.”

               “No,” Greed scowled. “What if you need her again?”

               “There _are_ other medical alchemists in the kingdom, you know.”

               “Strangers,” said Greed. “People neither of us knows. You really want them poking around your body?”

               “This takes precedence.”

               “Does it?” Greed scoffed. “If you die, the ones giving the orders will be those other clans. You think they’ll respect your dying wishes and destroy the stones?”

               “She’ll need protection,” Ling ignored him. “Some of my guard, perhaps.” He would’ve wanted Lan Fan or Greed to accompany Mei, but he knew both would refuse. “And a few others good with Dragon’s Pulses. I can think of a few I can send.” Ling tapped his arm while he thought for a moment longer. Then, he snapped his fingers.

               “I need to go to the imperial vault,” Ling said. He moved past the spluttering Greed to head towards the lower levels. He could hear Greed following him, grumbling all the while.

               The imperial vault was deeper than even the dungeons, buried deep as could be beneath the palace. It was not so much a single room but a maze of riches, gathered over generations of emperors hoarding treasures, tithes, and stolen artifacts from foreign lands. The tunnels leading there were dark and built from stone, lit only by torches half-heartedly burning. There was a distinct dampness in the air and a moisture underfoot.

               “Your Majesty,” the guards greeted him when he arrived. Their voices echoed hauntingly against the walls.

               “Be at ease,” Ling bade them. “Open the doors, please.”

               Both bowed before turning to the door. There were two keyholes—each of which were inserted with their corresponding key from each guard—before a large wheel in the center was turned. It was so large and unwieldy that both guards had to strain to turn it. The door gave an ominous, mournful groan as its ancient gears were spun.

               “No one else is to enter after us,” Ling told the guards as he took a torch. They bowed. Ling nodded for Greed to accompany him inside.

               The inside of the vault was pitch black. Ling lit the waiting basins of kindling just inside the doorway before moving around to the torches on the wall. If he would give the previous emperors anything for their hoarding, it would be that they were at least organized. Each emperor had an area committed for themselves, and each section was mindfully maintained.

               “Why are we here, again?” Greed asked at last when they had ventured far back into the vault. They were approaching the section for the last emperor—Ling’s father.

               “You remember what gift I gave the last emperor to succeed him?”

               “A philosopher’s stone.”

               “That’s right,” said Ling, bringing his torch closer to the shelves. The light illuminated gold, jewels, books, maps, paintings—a seemingly random assortment of goods that were said to be legendary, blessed, or otherwise priceless in some way. Still, his torch did not stop until he arrived at a small glass vial, situated innocently on the shelf, filled with shining red liquid.

               “I knew he wouldn’t destroy it,” Ling snorted, picking it up. “He hoarded it all for himself until the last moment.”

               “He didn’t use it?”

               “The man was stubborn,” Ling clicked his tongue. “I don’t think he realized he was really dying until he was actually dead.” He looked up to find Greed watching the vial.

               “Don’t,” said Ling. “I know that look. You can’t have it.”

               “Baby, come on—”

               “Don’t ‘baby’ me,” Ling interrupted him, jerking his hand away from Greed’s half-snatch. “I said I’m destroying them all, so I am. No exceptions.”

               “Come _on_ ,” Greed moaned. “Don’t you want me at full power for this shit?”

               “You _are_ at full power, as far as I’m concerned,” Ling said, although not unkindly. “You are as strong as you need to be. I don’t need you or want you to be any stronger.”

               “That’s real nice of you,” Greed snorted, “but I still want that stone.”

               “ _No_.”

               “Think about it!” Greed crowded him insistently, voice dropping to a hiss, a hand slipping out to grip Ling by the hip. Ling was beginning to resent Greed for using their relationship as an emotional weapon to throw about. “It wouldn’t just be for the war. I could test for poisons, stay up all night to guard you. I wouldn’t need to eat or sleep. I could pose as you in all the dangerous appearances you have to make. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

               Greed’s face was close. All its angles were highlighted by the eerie lighting around them. Ling’s cheeks were warm, but his voice was cold. “If that’s the case, it is I that might as well take it, now.”

               At this, Greed paused. “I guess you could,” Greed murmured at last, expression pensive, “but I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

               The answer was unexpected, but in that moment, Ling knew both of them were remembering the distant, haunting screams of souls ringing in their ears. In every moment, waking and asleep, Ling swore he could hear them somewhere in the back of his mind or just at the outside of his hearing when they were in the same body.

               “I appreciate the offer,” Ling said at last, “but the answer remains the same. Besides,” he added with a mild smirk, “don’t act like your intentions are fully selfless. Remind me again what you’ve been doing for the past two years?”

               “Fuck off,” Greed grinned and leaned in. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

               He stifled Ling’s next smart retort with a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm very sorry, again, for the length of time chapters have been taking in between. Unfortunately, I have been very busy and very stressed, and I've been unable to make space for Ling and Greed in between. I hope you will remain patient with me for a little longer. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> As always, you may contact me at glvssanimals.tumblr.com

                “I can’t believe I lost it.”

                “It’ll turn up,” Greed said with disinterest. He was lounging on Ling’s bed as usual, reading through some sort of document or other. He had become very interested in court affairs as of late—likely because he had not long ago been required to masquerade as Emperor—but Ling still found this studious side of Greed disconcerting.

                “It is not some bauble to be left to ‘turn up’,” Ling frowned as he adjusted his crown. “It’s a philosopher’s stone. I had it right in my hands, and then, before I knew it, it was gone!”

                “Did you try retracing your steps?”

                “ _Yes_ , Greed, I tried retracing my steps.”

                “Hey,” Greed shrugged, “just trying to help.”

                Ling sighed. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

                Greed looked up a little, as if he had not been expecting Ling to actually apologize. “Don’t worry about it,” he said at last, falling back into the pillows. “I was mostly kidding, anyway.”

                Ling frowned into the mirror, thinking back on the past two days. The pair had left the vault, had run into a variety of clan representatives and members, had dinner, retired for the evening, and went back to the regular routine the next day. Somewhere in between all those things, Ling had lost track of the philosopher’s stone—and, to his embarrassment, had not noticed until today.

                “Hey, you’ve been stressed and busy,” Greed said from the bed. Ling looked back to find Greed staring at his reflection. “So you lost the fucking stone. Whatever. We’ll find it, and we’ll destroy it. No big deal. _And_ ,” he cut off Ling before he could say anything more, “it’s tiny as fuck. Even if someone got their hands on it, they wouldn’t be able to do shit with it.”

                Ling wasn’t sure how true this was; the alchemists in Amestris seemed to do fine with very small amounts of stone. It seemed to be pointless to argue about it now, though. The stone was lost and that was the fact. Ling shook his head, dismayed.

                “Okay, we get it,” Greed threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “You’re sad the stone is lost. Hate to break it to you, but you got some more pressing matters to take care of.”

                “Don’t remind me,” Ling groaned as he pulled at his high collar. It was made from fine silk, but it still made his neck itch because it made him so sweaty.

                “I’m telling you,” Greed snorted, eyeing Ling’s fingers, “you should change the dress code.”

                A few moments later, Ling was sitting in the main throne room, addressing a full audience—clan leaders and civilians alike.

                “Citizens of Xing,” he greeted them, “I apologize for the lack of public audiences. Some internal matters needed my fullest attention, and regretfully, I was unable to have meetings with you all as I usually do. Now, however, I believe I will be able to fully commit my time and energy into hearing each of your needs. It is my hope that—”

                Without warning, a strangled cry came from somewhere in the crowd. Like magic, the people parted—a ripple of both brightly colored and browning fabrics. A woman or two shrieked. And, in grand fashion, out from the open space, burst out a crazed looking man holding a long knife. His eyes were wide and his hair was unkempt. His face was grimy and his clothes even worse. Still, he shouted with an unmistakably strong voice, “For the Xing clan!”

                Ling was only halfway out of his seat when Lan Fan and Greed jumped in front of him and apprehended the man mid-flight. He coughed in their vice grips, shouting, “Down with the Emperor! Long live the Xing!” He struggled against his bonds as he was forced to the floor, still shouting profanities and curses at Ling’s home, his birthright, his clan, his—

                “Your Majesty!” Lan Fan’s voice, slightly breathless, cut through to him. She was practically sitting on top of the man, her mask slightly askew. “Your Majesty, are you alright?”

                “I—uh,” Ling stuttered for a moment before shaking himself. This was not how an Emperor behaved. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Lan Fan.” He glanced at the man struggling underneath Lan Fan’s knee and was immediately taken back to the night Greed appeared in his bedroom. Was he not in the very position this would-be killer was?

                “Your Radiance?” Greed now said from underneath his mask. He was crouching also, although he had taken his hands off the man. Evidently, he found Lan Fan’s ability to keep him in a death lock adequate. It occurred to Ling that Greed had been speaking to him.

                “Yes?” Ling replied, aware that he still sounded rather breathless.

                “What shall we do with him?” Greed said slowly, as if he was repeating himself. His hand twitched a little. Ling could tell he was itching to seize Ling’s robes and shake some sense into him.

                “Ah—imprison him. Escort him to the dungeons, if you please.”

                “Your Radiance?” Greed said incredulously. “With respect—”

                Ling frowned and his eyes narrowed. He glanced at the onlooking crowd and back at Greed before minutely shaking his head. He knew Greed’s thoughts on such matters: the absolute punishment was death. But Ling was in no mood to argue that now—particularly in front of his entire court.

                Greed frowned back, but he wisely shut his mouth. Lan Fan rose and motioned to nearby guards to take the man away. Once the heavy doors were shut behind him, the court flew into an uproar.

                “Your Majesty!” someone called frantically. “Are you alright?”

                “An attack on His Radiance!” another said shrilly. “The gall!”

                “In the name of the Xing, he said!” a third called out. “Where is Xing Xuan?”

                “Yes,” Ling said at last and rose. Immediately, a chill rippled through the room. It fell dead silent as Ling stood and looked around. “Where is Xing Xuan? Come forward.”

                It took a moment, but eventually, from within the crowd, stepped the leader of the Xing clan: tall, handsome man with broad shoulders, whose hair fell in artful layers over his shoulders and had the tan of a working man—not that he had ever worked a day in his life. Ling knew Xuan was of highest Xingese nobility, descended from the original Xing Emperor, himself. He inherited his family’s proud mouth, shrewd eyes, and sharp nose.

                “Leader Xuan,” Ling said, voice even and absolutely frigid, “what is the meaning of this?”

                “Your Radiance,” Xuan fell to his knees, “I assure you, my people had nothing to do with this.”

                “How can you say this after what that man just said?” Ling insisted. “We all heard him declare his loyalty for the Xing.”

                “I do not know where that man came from nor who he is,” said Xuan. “He is certainly no clansman of mine—none would ever stand against the Exalted One.”

                “Then who is that man?”

                “An outsider, surely,” Xuan replied instantly. “Perhaps one that looks to cause strife within the nation. It is common when a new emperor comes to power, Your Majesty. They think Your Radiance weak-minded and the people fickle, but such is not the way of Xing.”

                A murmur of approval went through the crowd. Ling could feel himself frowning. Privately, he also did not think the assassin was sent by Xuan or the Xing. It was too public, too easy to stop. The man ran straight into Ling’s guards with a kitchen knife—and right after announcing himself, no less! It was a doomed task from the start. He wished he could take a moment to speak to his advisors, Greed, Mei, Lan Fan—well, anyone.

                But he didn’t have that kind of time, and even now, Xuan was swaying the crowd to his side. Ling could not afford this. He would have to work with the information he had at hand whether he doubted it or not.

                “People of Xing,” Ling looked to the court, now, “I have some disturbing news for you all. At first, I did not want to believe it—doubted it, even, for surely, I said to myself, my people would not do such things. But considering today’s events, I believe it is time I share this information with you all.

                “Recently, I have had reports from your fellow Xingese people that there have been whispers of a revolution. Plans for upheaval, chaos, war, and my assassination have been made behind closed doors. As I’ve said, I chose to believe this information false—but it seemed foolish to ignore it completely. I decided to investigate further to put the matter to rest.

                “To my dismay, I found some merit to these rumors. Even worse, I was recently nearly killed by an assassin in the middle of the night.”

                “Why did you not come forward with this, Your Radiance?” a noble called from the crowd. Ling inclined his head.

                “You’re right, I did not expose the matter then. Perhaps that was an oversight on my part. At the time, I did not want to present the criminal without the proper information. Yes, I was nearly assassinated, but who sent him? Under whose orders did he operate? Was it the act of one wayward man or under the influence of many? And there was still no way to know if these perpetrators were within Xing or out. I wanted— _needed_ —to investigate further.

                “That brings us to today: my first public audience in some time. I had intended to use this day to share all this knowledge with you all”—the most blatant lie of all the exaggerations he had made, thus far—“and propose we begin a formal search within all our clans. But, with this public attack, it seems I cannot deny the truth before me: there are some in this country that seek to overthrow me.”

                The hall was silent. It was as if the entire nation was holding its breath.

                “I know I am young and new,” Ling said. “I am introducing ideas that are new, as well. But, as Emperor, I ask you to stand with me, now. I ask you to honor your oaths of fealty. There is a force within our nation that seek to tear it apart. I wish to oust it, but I need your help to do so.”

                “Your Majesty,” said Xuan from his knees, “you know the Xing will stand with you without hesitation.”

                “No,” Ling said, “I don’t think you will.”

                Xuan looked up for a moment, and Ling spotted something dark spark in his eye. _You do this, and you can’t take it back._

                “People of Xing,” Ling said, “my reports have identified clans that have had the greatest hand in planning my usurpation are the largest of clans—the Xing included.”

                A wave of exclamations and gasps went through the crowd.

 _Now we shall see_ , Ling thought to himself. It would now be a division between the Emperor and the most powerful and oldest clan of Xing.

                “Xing Xuan!” someone called from the back. “Is this true?”

                Ling glanced at Xuan, who paused. They both knew the truth, but they also both knew that Xuan could easily deny it all and still have some merit. Still, the seeds of suspicion had been sowed; investigations would go on into the Xing no matter if Xuan wanted them or not, and no matter how careful he might be, it was impossible no evidence would come to light supporting Ling’s claim. So, the right move now would be—

                Abruptly, Xuan rose and looked towards the crowd. He was going to get ahead of this while he had the chance.

                “Yes,” Xuan said solemnly, “it is true.”

                A momentary uproar heaved through the crowd. “Usurper!” they called him. “Traitor! For shame! For shame!”

                “Hear me, fellow countrymen!” Xuan’s voice boomed over the clamor. “Yes, my methods are imperfect! But the Emperor has left me no choice! We are all skeptical of his new policies, are we not? We all have suffered at some measure because of these new plans, have we not?” Xuan turned to Ling, now, and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “We, the Xing, have sent letters and advisors and representatives _begging_ the Emperor to give us his ear, to change his policies, to appreciate our ails! Yet, this Emperor—no, this _boy_ —ignored all our claims, and our people continue to suffer. Is this the sort of man we want to rule? For the good of the Xing and for the nation, I did what I had to do.”

                The crowd was filled with nodding and shaking heads both. Ling heard his heart pumping inside his ears. If this went wrong, he could very well be unseated from his throne right then and there.

                “Enough,” Ling said at last, sweeping away the noise with one wave of his arm. “Clearly, there is much to be discussed among you. I will be ending the audience, today. Go back to your families, your homes. Decide where you stand and announce it to me. Xing has always prided itself in having fifty unique clans that operated individually, like members of a grand family. But, if your leaders fail to align themselves one way or the other, I must be forced to assume you are against me.”

                “Your Radiance,” said Greed, stepping forward out of the line of soldiers, “we are letting traitors run free?” He cast a significant look at Xuan, who was still standing before Ling.

                “This is neither the time nor place for battle,” Ling said. “Let them go. Who knows? Perhaps, now that all is in the light, they will surrender and we might avoid war.”

                “I do not think so, Your Majesty,” said Xuan with scorn. With a sweep of his robes, he stepped away and disappeared into the crowd, which parted to allow him through as if he was diseased.

                “My countrymen,” Ling raised a hand, “I have preparations to make. I will take my leave.”

                And, despite the misgivings of the crowd, they all knelt and bowed to him, pressing their foreheads to the floor. Some even proclaimed, “Long live the Emperor!”

                Ling could tell it would be some time before he would be before such a crowd, again.

                Then, like Xuan, Ling exited the throne room, escorted closely by his guards. Ling took comfort in the closeness of Lan Fan and Greed on either shoulder. When they returned to his private part of the castle, he said to them, “Someone get me the Yao leaders.” Lan Fan murmured something, and a guard peeled off and disappeared down a hall.

                “The man is in the dungeons?”

                “Ah,” Lan Fan shifted a little, “no, not exactly, Your Majesty.”

                “What? ‘Not exactly’? Where else could you have possibly put him?”

                “Ling—” Greed began, but in that moment, the guard reappeared and said, “Your Majesty, the leaders are ready for you.”

                “That was fast,” Ling observed.

                “I told them to be ready,” Greed said. Ling looked at him curiously, but Greed was already heading towards the war room.

                The atmosphere inside was calm, professional, and cool—the opposite of what Ling had expected. He thought that his clansmen would be clamoring on top of each other, demanding they take action against the Xing immediately, that the war had begun and they had to get in front of it.

                Instead, his clansmen were sitting calmly, some with their hands folded atop the table, looking serious, but not panicked, surprised, or even fazed—as if their Emperor’s life had not just been attempted at.

                “Alright,” Ling said, sitting down, “someone explain.”

                “Your Majesty,” began Jun, but Ling held up a hand.

                “My mistake, I should have been more specific. I am in no mood for pretty words. I do not want to hear from you.”

                Jun did not look particularly offended; he sat back with a mild smile.

                “General Sheng,” Ling prompted the older man, “you will report to me.”

                The general straightened and cleared his throat. “Your Majesty. First, we are glad you are safe.”

                “Yet do not seem surprised I almost died.”

                “This is true. We were not very worried. This is because the assassin was a man of our own.”

                Ling felt himself bristle, but Sheng trudged on—intentionally, most likely, wanting to plow on with the explanation before Ling could interrupt it.

                “We understand your wanting to wait for the opportune moment to announce the war, Your Majesty. We were in agreement; we had to approach the reveal carefully. However, the moment you were waiting for was not going to come—or, at the very least, perhaps would not come how we wanted. We thought we would take some action to reveal the Xing’s traitorous ways.”

                “You had no right nor authority to do this without my knowledge,” Ling practically snarled. “I could have you all executed.”

                “Don’t,” said Greed, who took off his mask. “Wasn’t completely their fault.” Ling shot a look at him, wondering what role he had to play in this.

                “I, uh, might’ve pretended to be you and organized this entire thing myself,” Greed scratched the back of his head and stared at some point directly above Ling’s head.

                “You _what_?” Ling now almost shouted, rising from his seat.

                “Look, it was an ‘ask for forgiveness than permission’ thing,” Greed grimaced, putting up his hands in feeble surrender. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it? You’re fine, everyone knows Xuan is a piece of shit, and you’re going to get allies because they made the first move!”

                “But they _didn’t_ make the first move,” Ling sneered. “ _We_ did.”

                “Well,” Greed said blandly, “history’s written by the winners.”

                Ling had a bad taste in his mouth, but he sat down, nonetheless; there was little use in arguing something that was already done. And, in any case, Greed was right: it _did_ work, and Ling had the distinct feeling that the Yao would have more public support than anticipated after a very public execution attempt.

                But that didn’t mean he liked it.

                “Very well,” Ling sighed, massaging his temples, “I cannot undo what’s done. If that is the case, then our timetables must be moved up.”

                “We’ve anticipated this, Your Majesty,” said Sheng with a small bow. “We have already sent out teams to retrieve the philosopher’s stones.”

                “They are to be trusted?” asked Ling.”

                “I’d die for them,” Sheng said simply.

                “We must send out envoys to all potential ally clans.”

                “I’ve already organized this, Your Majesty,” Jun chimed in.

                “Then, is there anything that requires my attention, or shall I thank you all for your meticulous work?” Ling’s tone was cold.

                “We would not have gone behind your back if we did not think we had to, Your Majesty,” Sheng said quietly.

                “Of course not,” said Ling. “I’m sure.”

                Moments later, he was storming towards his room, Greed close at his heels.

                “Look, you don’t have to give them shit for it,” Greed insisted. “Yeah, they did it, but they thought I was you. They were practically ordered to do it.”

                “Don’t be stupid,” Ling snapped. “As if you could possibly pass as me in a meeting with all my advisors.”

                “Hey,” Greed sniffed, “I’m not _that_ bad.”

                “You think _all_ of them thought you were _really_ me?” Ling snorted. “Don’t bother trying to defend them; it’s on them as much as you.”

                “Whatever,” Greed began, but was cut short by a door being slammed in his face.

“The fuck!” he shouted, and he pounded on the door.

                “Go do your guard duties or something,” Ling said. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

                “Are you serious?” Greed said through the door. “You’re going to stay in your room like a little bitch? Come out here and yell at me if you’re going to yell at me!”

                Ling was tempted—sorely. He wanted nothing more than to rip the door open and give Greed a piece of his mind. Who did he think he was? He blatantly went behind Ling’s back—and for what? A political advantage? This was not simply a betrayal of trust between subject and ruler, and not even a betrayal between friends. They had been a step away from sex a few weeks ago. Ling was laid bare before Greed, shared many insecurities, secrets, and emotions with him. He thought they were...well, he wasn’t sure _what_ he thought they were, but he certainly thought they were _something_. Something meaningful enough for this to not happen.

                Regardless. Clearly, Greed did not value whatever they were as much as Ling did, and yelling would not make the situation go away. Yelling was not becoming of an emperor, after all.

Perhaps he simply should’ve known better. A ruler, Ling knew, could rarely afford to get close to anyone. And did he not have some inhibitions about trusting Greed in the first place? He let his guard down, let himself get too comfortable with an old acquaintance. Ling shook his head and rubbed his temples. Had he been so lonely that he allowed himself to forget common sense?

                “Go away,” Ling said.

                “Ling, for fuck’s sake,” Greed snapped, “I get it, you’re mad. Just—just come out and we can, you know, talk about it.” His voice faltered slightly.

                “Ha,” Ling gave a weak scoff. “Like I said: I’m in no mood to speak with you right now. Leave before I order you removed.”

                The door shook with a sudden slam. “Idiot!” Greed snarled. “Are you that stupid you can’t see I did you a fucking favor? You should be fucking thanking me you piece of shit.”

                Ling did not reply. If Greed could not understand why Ling was upset, he did not feel like explaining it to him—not now, at least. Greed went on to say a few more creative swear words and pound the door some more, but eventually, Ling heard him mutter to himself and walk away. With a sigh, Ling sank along the door and rested his head on his knees.

                _Get yourself together, Ling_ , he told himself sternly. He took a few deep breaths. For now, he would allow himself this moment of idleness. He would allow himself to stay curled up against the door and hug himself for a few moments longer. Perhaps he will go to bed early, or order someone to bring his favorite dish to eat in his room. He would allow himself these indulgences for this night, only.

                Tomorrow, the war would begin.


	12. author status update

Hi guys 

First of all, thanks for still following along with the story. I'm astounded I'm still getting comments and kudos (as few and far apart as they may be) after not releasing new content for months. 

Second: I'm sorry for not releasing said content. A lot of things happened in real life, and ultimately what has discouraged me from continuing is that, during a move, my notebook with all the notes I had for this fic (i.e. the cultures, all the names of the 50 clans, etc.) got lost in a sea of other boxes and things. I've yet to track it down and, honestly, the idea of going through all my stuff for the 1 thing is a rather tiring prospect. 

I do know how the story ends/how it progresses, so if you'd like to have a brief summary of  _how_ the story ends, let me know/reach out to me. If not here, you can contact me at **glvssanimals** , my tumblr. 

Anyways, thank you again for the support. It's one of the strongest and best supportive comments I've ever had on a fic and honestly it's what kept me going for the longest time. Perhaps one day I'll come back to this and write out the plot that I have in my head, but for now, I must admit that it does not seem likely. Thank you for understanding. 

Cheers, and good luck to you all. 


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